He did not answer, he only looked at her: she coloured and faltered.
"It is not well for a man to live alone," she said, unconsciously quoting. "Bob," coming a little nearer to him, "do you remember that day that you carried me?"
"Is it likely I could forget?"
"And you thought I was hurt, but I wasn't. Bob"—softly—"I wanted to be taken in your arms."
He did not speak, he did not understand—why had she wanted him to take her in his arms?
"And they are so strong," she went on, "they held me so comfortably. Bob—since you are going away, since after to-night I shall never see you again—take me into them once more."
He took a step backwards.
"But the man you love!" he said.
"Bob! Must I ask you twice?"
He paused no longer, he threw his strong arms around her, lifting her in them.