Now, her arms around him, she looked at him and looked at him as though she had not set eyes on him since then.
"Of course, I love you," she said impatiently, as though surprised and hurt that he or she had ever doubted it. "You always were mine; you are mine! Nobody else could ever have had you—no matter what you did—or what I did.... And nobody except you could ever, ever have had me. That is perfectly plain now.... Oh, you—you darling"—she murmured, drawing his face against hers. Tears sprang to her brown eyes; her mouth quivered.
"You will love me, won't you? Because I'm going quite mad about you, Duane.... I don't think I know just what I'm saying—or what I'm doing."
She drew him closer; he caught her, crushing her in his arms, and she yielded, clung to him for a moment, drew back in flushed resistance, still bewildered by her own passion. Then, into her eyes came that divine beauty which comes but once on earth—innocence awakened; and the white lids drooped a little, and the mouth quivered, surrendering with a sigh.
"You never have, never could love any other man? Say it. I know it, but—say it, sweetheart!"
"Only you, Duane."
"Are you happy?"
"I am in heaven."
She closed her eyes—opening them almost immediately and passing one hand across his face as though afraid he might have vanished.
"You are there yet," she murmured with a faint smile.