She merely lifted her eyes.
“I think,” he said, “there’s only that one way out of it. But you understand”—he turned pink—“it will be quite all right—your liberty—privacy—I shan’t bother you—annoy——”
She merely looked at him.
“After this Bolshevistic flurry is settled—in a year or two—or three—then you can very easily get your freedom; and you’ll have all life before you” ... he rose: “—and a jolly good friend in me—a good comrade, Miss Norne. And that means you can count on me when you go into business—or whatever you decide to do.”
She also had risen, standing slim and calm in her exquisite Chinese robe, the sleeves of which covered her finger tips.
“Are you going to marry me?” she asked.
“If you’ll let me.”
“Yes—I will ... it’s so generous and considerate of you. I—I don’t ask it; I really don’t——”
“But I do.”
“—And I never dreamed of such a thing.”