"If we stop here," she said almost pleadingly.
"If we stop here," he agreed, slowly. "If we end it all here. Well. And of course, Sue, chance might, MIGHT set me free, you know, and then--"
Again the serious look, followed by the sweet and irresistible smile. Susan suddenly felt the hot tears running down her cheeks.
"Chance won't," she said in agony. And she began to fumble blindly for a handkerchief.
In an instant he was beside her, and as she stood up he put both arms about her, and she dropped her head on his shoulder, and wept silently and bitterly. Every instant of this nearness stabbed her with new joy and new pain; when at last he gently tipped back her tear-drenched face, she was incapable of resisting the great flood of emotion that was sweeping them both off their feet.
"Sue, you do care! My dearest, you DO care?"
Susan, panting, clung to him.
"Oh, yes--yes!" she whispered. And, at a sound from the hall, she crushed his handkerchief back into his hand, and walked to the deep archway of a distant window. When he joined her there, she was still breathing hard, and had her hand pressed against her heart, but she was no longer crying.
"I am mad I think!" smiled Susan, quite mistress of herself.
"Susan," he said eagerly, "I was only waiting for this! If you knew--if you only knew what an agony I've been in yesterday and to-day--! And I'm not going to distress you now with plans, my dearest. But, Sue, if I were a divorced man now, would you let it be a barrier?"