Even then she was not quite sure that she was not dreaming all this.

She patted his big hand and would have put her head against his chest if the brim of her hat had permitted her to do so.
"That's very sweet of you, Geordie," she said.

"How good you are to me." He echoed the word "Good!" and laughed and waved his hands.

It was the gesture of a man whose choice of ready words was not large enough to describe all that he longed and tried to be to her.

And then he stood back with his long legs wide apart and his large hands thrust into his pockets and his rather untidy gray head stuck on one side and studied her as if she were a picture in a gallery.