She put up her two hands, in the trick they had of groping at her white throat, and her lips formed a word which she did not speak.
Kent, to his own amazement, was smiling and still on his knees.

He pulled himself to his feet, and stood up straight, looking down at her in that same strange, comforting, all-powerful way.

The thrill of it was passing into her veins.

A flush of color was driving the deathly pallor from her face.

Her lips were parted, and she breathed quickly, a little excitedly.
"I thought--you would go!" she said.
"Not without you," he said.