Ronnie would have to walk the whole length of the room to reach her.
Thus she would see him--see the love in his eyes--before her own were
hidden.
She heard Simpkins cross the hall and open the door.
The next moment the horses' hoofs pounded up the drive, and she heard
the crunch of the wheels coming to a standstill on the wet gravel.
A murmur from Simpkins, then Ronnie's gay, joyous voice, as he entered
the house.
"In the sitting-room? Oh, thanks! Yes, take my coat. No, not this. I
will put it down myself."
Then his footstep crossing the hall.
Then--Ronnie filled the doorway; tall, bronzed, radiant as ever! She had
forgotten how beautiful he was. And--yes--the love in his eyes was just
as she had known it would be--eager, glowing.
She never knew how he reached her; but she let go the table and held out
her arms. In a moment he was in them, and his were flung around her. His
lips sought hers, but her face was hidden on his breast. She felt his
kisses in her hair.
"Oh, Helen!" he said. "Helen! Why did I ever go!"
She held him closer still, sobbing a little.
"Darling, we both thought it right you should go. And--you didn't know."
"No," he agreed rather vaguely, "of course I didn't know." He thought
she meant that he had not known how long the parting would seem, how
insistent would be the need of each other. "I should not have gone, if I
had known," he added, tenderly.
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