"That's true enough," he replied. "I wish I'd done it long ago."
He was standing very tall and stiff by the door, with his coat still on, and his arms folded grimly across his breast. I looked at him, and a half-mischievous, half-tender impulse overwhelmed me. I went closer to him, and put my hands on his folded arms as I said:
"I'll go, Roger, if you'll take me in your arms and kiss me."
He gave me such a look at that, and then his face broke, and he opened his arms. I went into them. I don't know how long I was in his arms. I never wanted to leave them again.
I presently heard his voice, low and husky, and felt he was trying to release himself from my hands. He said:
"I must go. I'll miss my train."
"O Roger, please don't leave me now!" I begged.
"I must," he replied, and then he went quickly out of the room. I followed him into the hall, though he was striding along so swiftly I could not keep pace with him. Just where the stairs began, I caught at his arm and held him.
"O Roger, you do love me, don't you?" I asked sobbingly, and he said hoarsely:
"Yes, I do."