“And you wondered which it would be, speech or silence?” queried Roberta, as he took that place he had meant to take, at her knee, and looked up, smiling, into her down-bent face.

“I did wonder, but I don’t wonder now.  I know.  There aren’t any words, are there?”

“No,” she answered, looking now into the fire, yet seeing, as clearly as before, his fine and ardent, yet reverent face, “I think there are no words.”