“I know that, Mr. Dan,” she said softly.
“Child, you must be starving here,” he said gently. “You weren’t meant for this; you were meant for the woods and rocks, the rocks that run into the sea—something tempestuous and free.”
“I should like the sea,” she said eagerly, and her eyes lit up as though touched with phosphorus.
He took a long breath and glanced out of the open window, drinking in the mild air laden with the stirring perfumes of the spring.
“We must get away,” he said joyfully, “from men and machines! You’ve given me back life and ambition, child. Now I want to get away to my own thoughts, back to the things that are eternal, the things that heal.” They stood by the window. He raised her hand again to his lips. “I’ve waited long enough to be fair to you—now I’m going to carry you off!” he said, with a suddenness that took away her breath.
The next moment his arms had snatched her up and she was looking up into his steady domineering eyes. And, seeing his look, she understood.
“To carry me off?” she said faintly.
“Yes, Mrs. Dangerfield.”
“You want me to marry you!” she said, staring at him.
He laughed out of the fulness of the joy in his heart.