"Are you alive?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied.
"Thank God!" said Mortimer, scooping some of the snow out of the back
of his collar.
Together they went into the house, and into the drawing-room. Wife
gazed at husband, husband at wife. There was a silence.
"Rotten weather!" said Mortimer.
"Yes, isn't it!"
The spell was broken. They fell into each other's arms. And presently
they were sitting side by side on the sofa, holding hands, just as if
that awful parting had been but a dream.
It was Mortimer who made the first reference to it.
"I say, you know," he said, "you oughtn't to have nipped away like
that!"
"I thought you hated me!"
"Hated _you_! I love you better than life itself! I would sooner
have smashed my pet driver than have had you leave me!"
She thrilled at the words.
"Darling!"
Mortimer fondled her hand.
"I was just coming back to tell you that I loved you still. I was going
to suggest that you took lessons from some good professional. And I
found you gone!"
"I wasn't worthy of you, Mortimer!"
"My angel!" He pressed his lips to her hair, and spoke solemnly.
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