He could not know, or he had not spoken to her thus.
She sat slowly forward, drawing her hair about her shoulders like a cloak.

She felt for the moment an overpowering weakness, and she could not look up.
"I will come, of course," she said at last, her voice very low, "if you wish it." Sir Roland did not respond at once.

Then, as his silence was beginning to disquiet her again, he laid a steady hand upon the shadowing hair.
"My dear," he said gently, "have you no wishes upon the subject ?" Again she started at his touch, and again, as if to rectify the start, drew ever so slightly nearer to him.

It was many, many days since she had heard that tone from him.
"My wishes are yours," she told him faintly.
His hand was caressing her softly, very softly.

Again he was silent for a while, and into her heart there began to creep a new feeling that made her gradually forget the immensity of her relief.