There was a silence; under his curious and significant gaze she flushed, then laughed.
"Wayward said that you had something to tell me," he added.... "Constance, is it—"
"Yes."
"You darling!" he whispered, taking her into his arms. And she laid her face on his shoulder, crying a little, laughing a little.
"After all these years, Garry—all these years! It is a long time to—to care for a man—a long, long time.... But there never was any other—not even through that dreadful period—"
"I know."
"Yes, you know.... I have cared for him since I was a little girl."
They stood a while talking tenderly, intimately of her new happiness and of the new man, Wayward.
Both knew that he must bear his scars for ever, that youth had died in him. But they were very confident and happy standing there together in the sunlight which poured into the room, transfiguring her. And she truly seemed as lovely, radiant, and youthful as her own young heart, unsullied, innocent, now, as when it yielded its first love so long ago amid the rosewood and brocades of the old-time parlour where the sun fell across the faded roses of the carpet.
"I knew it was so from the way he shook hands," said Hamil, smiling. "How well he looks, Constance! And as for you—you are a real beauty!"