The shrubs have grown much bigger and they have planted some new ones--but it is the same garden." His look came back to her.

"You are the same Robin," he said softly.
"Yes," she answered, as she had always answered "yes" to him.
"You are the same little child," he added and he lifted her hands again, but this time he kissed them as gently as he had spoken.

"God! I'm glad!" And that was said softly, too.

He was not a man of thirty or forty--he was a boy of twenty and his whole being was vibrating with the earthquake of the world.
That he vaguely recognised this last truth revealed itself in his next words.
"It would have taken me six months to say this much to you--to get this far--before this thing began," he said.

"I daren't have run after you in the street.