"Utterly, miserably alone. Oh, Mr. Shaw!" she cried despairingly. "You will understand, won't you?"
"Never! Never as long as I live. It is beyond comprehension. The wonderful part of it all is that I was sitting in there dreaming of you—yes, I was. I heard some one out here, investigated and found you—you, of all people in the world. And I was dreaming that I held you in my arms. Yes, I was! I was dreaming it—"
"Mr. Shaw! You shouldn't—"
"And I awoke to find you—not in my arms, not in Bazelhurst Villa, but here—here on my porch."
"Like a thief in the night," she murmured. "What do you think of me?"
"Shall I tell you—really?" he cried. The light in his eyes drove her back a step or two, panic in her heart.
"N—no, no—not now!" she gasped, but a great wave of exaltation swept through her being. He turned and walked away, too dazed to speak. Without knowing it, she followed with hesitating steps. At the edge of the porch he paused and looked into the darkness.
"By Jove, I must be dreaming," she heard him mutter.
"No, you are not," she declared desperately. "I am here. I ask your protection for the night. I am going away—to England—to-morrow. I couldn't stay there—I just couldn't. I'm sorry I came here—I'm—"
"Thank haven, you did come," he exclaimed, turning to her joyously. "You are like a fairy—the fairy princess come true. It's unbelievable! But—but what was it you said about England?" he concluded, suddenly sober.