Then he went back to the business he had in hand.
"I am glad it is so with you," he said quietly.

"Because Florimond has brought him home a wife." The words were out, and he stood back as stands a man who, having cast an insult, prepares to ward the blow he expects in answer.

He had looked for a storm, a wild, frantic outburst; the lightning of flashing, angry eyes; the thunder of outraged pride.

Instead, here was a gentle calm, a wan smile overspreading her sweet, pale face, and then she hid that face in her hands, buried face and hands upon his shoulder and fell to weeping very quietly.
This, he thought, was almost worse than the tempest he had looked for.
How was he to know that these tears were the overflow of a heart that was on the point of bursting from sheer joy?
He patted her shoulder; he soothed her.
"Little child," he whispered in her ear.

"What does it matter?
You did not really love him.