“Good land of love—and the calves got loose!” he almost shouted as he held up his one sound arm to her. “My dear, my dear——”
“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered laying her hot cheek against his, “it's taken you so long to say it, but I love you all the more for the dear thoughts that made you hesitate.”
He was silent a few moments, digesting his amazement, speechless with the great happiness that was his—and then Dolores was kissing the back of the hand of that helpless, bandaged arm lying across his breast. He had a tightening in his throat, for he had not expected love; and that sweet, benignant, humble little kiss spelled adoration and eternal surrender; when she looked at him again the mists of joy were in his eyes.
“Dear old Caliph John!” she crooned. “He's never had a woman to understand his funny ways and appreciate them and take care of him, has he?” She patted his cheek. “And bless his simple old heart, he would rather give up his love than be false to his friend. Yes, indeed. Johnny Webster respects 'No Shooting' signs when he sees them, but he tells fibs and pretends to be very stupid when he really isn't. So you wouldn't be false to Billy—eh, dear? I'm glad to know that, because the man who cannot be false to his friend can never be false to his wife.”
He crushed her down to him and held her there for a long time. “My dear,” he said presently, “isn't there something you have to say to me?”
“I love you, John,” she whispered, and sealed the sweet confession with a true lover's kiss.
“All's well with the world,” John Stuart Webster announced when he could use his lips once more for conversation. “And,” he added, “owing to the fact that I started a trifle late in life, I believe I could stand a little more of the same.”
The door opened and Ricardo looked in on them. “Killjoy!” Webster growled. “Old Killjoy the Thirteenth, King of Sobrante. Is this a surprise to you?”
“Not a bit of it, Jack. I knew it was due.”
“Am I welcome in the Ruey family?”