"'Your loyalty to honor deceived a very gentle heart,' he said."
She made no sign, no movement.
"We could ask no better woman for our daughter," he said. "I was very blind. Jack knew, but his mother knew best of all. My wife is very wise, Silvette—far wiser than I.... And I have—I am in debt—to the name you bear. I thought by giving you my boy I was canceling it.... You put me under obligations I am unable to meet—unless you can accept my—affection—as collateral. Can you, child?"
Her hand moved slightly—moved farther across the polished surface of the desk. His hand fell over it.
"Thank you," he said.
They remained silent for a few moments; then he gently relinquished her hand and went out, leaving the door just ajar.
When Silvette lifted her head from the desk, she knew that Jack had entered.
Tall and quiet, he stood looking at her; tall and pale, she rose, looked at him steadily, came toward him as he moved toward her, and laid both hands fearlessly in his.
"I didn't know," she said. "I wouldn't let myself even think of you.... Do you want me, Jack?"
Then down he went on one knee, and kissed hers, and her hands, and her gown; and, confused, she drew away, then waited as he rose waited, looking at him as his arm encircled her.