Perhaps
all this waited for him. Well, let all this wait; let everything wait,
till to-morrow or to the end of time, which could now come at any moment
for all he cared--but certainly till to-morrow.
"I only know," he went on with an emphasis that made Mrs. Travers raise
her head, "that wherever I go I shall carry you with me--against my
breast."
Mrs. Travers' fine ear caught the mingled tones of suppressed exultation
and dawning fear, the ardour and the faltering of those words. She was
feeling still the physical truth at the root of them so strongly that
she couldn't help saying in a dreamy whisper:
"Did you mean to crush the life out of me?"
He answered in the same tone:
"I could not have done it. You are too strong. Was I rough? I didn't
mean to be. I have been often told I didn't know my own strength. You
did not seem able to get through that opening and so I caught hold
of you. You came away in my hands quite easily. Suddenly I thought to
myself, 'now I will make sure.'"
He paused as if his breath had failed him. Mrs. Travers dared not make
the slightest movement. Still in the pose of one in quest of hidden
truth she murmured, "Make sure?"
"Yes. And now I am sure. You are here--here! Before I couldn't tell."
"Oh, you couldn't tell before," she said.
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