“I have done nothing.”
“You have no shelter; what shall you do?”
“I do not mind in the least; you forget I have been used to the bush.” A second long silence.
“Geoffrey!” very gently.
“I am here, dear.”
“Do not go far away.”
“Rest assured I will not.”
Silence again—this time not broken.
By-and-by he approached and listened; the low regular breathing convinced him that she slept at last. “She must be very, very weary,” he thought, “and I—” Scarce a word had been said that might not have been uttered before the world, and yet he felt a secret assurance that her heart was turning towards him.