She knew if he went from her like that, believing she had ceased to care, he would never come back again.

He would wipe her out utterly from his thoughts--out of his heart.

Henceforward she would be only a dead memory to him--the symbol of a shattered faith.
It was more than she could bear.

She could not give up that--Peter's faith in her! It was all she had to cling to--to carry her through life.
She stretched out her arms to him, crying brokenly: "Oh, Peter--Peter--" At the sound, of her low, shaken voice, with its infinite appeal for understanding, the iron control he had been forcing on himself snapped asunder, and he caught her in his arms, kissing her with the fierce hunger of a man who has been starved of love.
She leaned against him, physically unable to resist, and deep down in her heart glad that she could not.

For the moment everything was swept away in an anguish of happiness--in the ecstasy of burning kisses crushed against her mouth and throat and the strained clasp of arms locked round her.
"My woman!" he muttered unsteadily.