"Did you expect that I should take it lightly, Pat?"
"No, but——"
"I love you," he said. No more than that, hardly above his breath. But it was as if he had pronounced the final word of passion, of yearning, of devotion; his full confession of the bond which is at once primal and eternal between man and woman.
She dropped her head. The thick clusters of her hair rippled forward, almost concealing the eyes which she lifted, aslant, alight, mischievous, yet craving, to his.
"Do you?" she whispered. "Do you truly?" She nestled again, close in his embrace.
"And you, Pat?" he asked.
"I don't know," she answered, troubled. "I've hardly been able to think—since. I suppose I must; but——"
"We have a great deal to say to each other," he began gravely, when she broke in:
"I've had so much else to think about. Have you heard about poor Dee?"