Winn put his arm around her and drew her head down on his shoulder.
"It's all right," he said rather thickly. "I won't hurt you."
But he knew that he had hurt her, and that it was all wrong.
She did not cry, but she trembled against his heart. He felt her shivering as if she were afraid of all the world but him.
"I must stay with you," she whispered. "I must stay with you, mustn't I?"
He tried not to say "always," but he thought afterward that he must have said "always."
Then she lifted her curls and her little fur cap with the snow on it from his shoulder, and looked deep into his eyes. The worst of it was that hers were filled with joy.
"Winn," she said, "do you love me enough for anything? Not only for happiness, but, if we had to have dreadful things, enough for dreadful things?"
She spoke of dreadful things as if they were outside her, and as if they were very far away.
"I love you enough for anything," said Winn, gravely.