"Why then, Jane?" breathlessly.
"Then at last, Jerry, I know love."
His arms tightened about her, her head slipped to his shoulder, and they kissed each other—their betrothal kiss. Jerry said nothing, but when Jane's hand went to his cheek, she felt hot tears there. After a long while he spoke, humbly:
"Jane, are you perfectly sure? Martin Christiansen is a wonderful, rare man, and I'm...."
"You're my man, Jerry. I wish we could have him for our friend, but...."
"We will, dearest, if he'll take me, too."
"He will understand, as God would," she said softly.
"Jane, how can you be so wonderful, and want to belong to me?"
With such foolish tenderness of belated courtship they drove through the silent radiance of the wood. The arbutus scent was intoxicating, and the night sounds were mysterious. They were silent, happy. As they came out of the woods and on to the open road again, Jerry heaved a deep sigh.
"Jane, heart of me, I feel as if all the problems in the world were settled for us!"