“Not exactly, but I hoped—”
“Hoped!—Margot, is it possible that you have cared, too? It seems too wonderful to be true.—I never dreamt of such amazing happiness. At the best it seemed possible that you would be willing to give me a hearing. I did not dare to write, but this time of waiting has seemed as if it would never end...”
As he began to speak Margot faced him with candid eyes, but at the sound of his voice, and at sight of the answering flash of his eyes, her lids quivered and fell, and she shrank back against the cushions of her chair. Astonishment overwhelmed her; but the relief, the thankfulness, the rapture of the moment obliterated everything else. She gave a strangled sob of emotion and said faintly—
“It—it has seemed long to me, too!”
At that he was on his knees before her, clasping her hands and gazing at her with an expression of rapturous relief. “Oh, Margot, my darling, was it because I was not there? Have you missed me? Not as I have missed you—that is not possible, but enough to remember me sometimes, and to be glad to meet again. Have you thought of me at all, Margot?”
“I—I have thought of nothing else!” sighed Margot. She was generous with her assurance, knowing the nature of the man with whom she had to deal, and her reward was the sight of the illumined face turned upon her.
There, in a corner of a modern drawing-room, with a glimpse of a London street between the curtain folds, Margot and George Elgood found the Eden which is discovered afresh by all true lovers. Such moments are too sacred for intrusion; they live enshrined in memory until the end of life.
It was not until a considerable time had flown by that Margot recalled the events of the earlier evening, and with them still another claim held by her lover upon her gratitude and devotion. Drawing back, so as to lift her charming face to his—a rosy, sparkling face, unrecognisable as the same white and weary visage of a few hours back, she laid her hand on his, and said sweetly—
“We went off at a tangent, didn’t we? I don’t know how we went off, and forgot the real business of the evening; but I never finished thanking you! You must think me terribly ungrateful!”
George Elgood regarded her with puzzled, adoring eyes.