“Aren’t you glad?” she pressed for an answer.
“Very.” He spoke tenderly, as if to reassure a child, folding the wrap lingeringly over her shoulders.
“And you’ll be happier now?”
“Happier—romanticist—what’s happiness?”
“It’s everything,” said Horatia.
She looked up at him and the dark circles under her eyes and the pallor of her cheeks made her suddenly pathetic. A tremendous tenderness woke in Langley’s face. Tenderness and pain. The cynicism which had guarded his emotions seemed to slip away.
“I’m happy just to be near you—near you.”
He drew her gently back against him and bent towards her lips. They met his—so sweetly, so softly, with the innocence of their touch matching the wonder in her eyes. Wonder that love had dawned on her life.
He did not speak—only held her. It was she who broke the silence.
“All the wonderful things in the world are coming true.”