He listened, bewildered, not understanding.  Gently he said: 

“But, dear—­I—­don’t—­”

She motioned him to a seat.

“Sit down, sweetheart, and let me sit on your knee, just as I used to.”

“Yes, darling—­just as we used to.”

He took off his coat, threw it on the sofa and sat on a chair in front of the table.  Virginia, with a cry of delight, jumped on his knee and threw her arm around his neck.

“Let me snuggle up to you in the way I love,” she cried.  “Hold me close—­very, very close—­and don’t say a word—­not even one.”

Too happy to ask questions, he held her tight in his arms.  In a low voice she murmured: 

“I’m so tired, dear.  I’m so tired—­”

Fondly, tenderly, he caressed her.

“My poor little girl!  Come, dear, the machine is outside.  We’ll go home at once.”

“Not yet—­please—­I’m too happy.  And it’s you.  It’s really, really you.”

“It really is,” he smiled.

“Yes,” she went on, “I’ve hoped and longed and prayed that you would come for me, but I didn’t think you would.  I imagined that your pride wouldn’t let you.”

“My pride?” he echoed, perplexed.

“Yes.  You said you wouldn’t come unless I sent for you.”

Stafford started and stared fixedly at her.

“Virginia!” he exclaimed.

He was about to demand explanations when she interrupted him.

“I’m not reproaching you, dear.  I mention it because it makes your coming all the bigger and finer!” Rising she added; “I’m the happiest girl in all the world.  You came for me.  Nothing else matters—­”

Stafford listened to her in amazement.  It was very clear.  She had not sent for him after all.  There had been some misunderstanding.  Yet what of it?  He had found her, he had clasped her once more to his breast.  That was all he cared about.  Not for anything in the world would he lose her again.  He said nothing, gazing fondly into her dear tired face as she went on: 

“If you hadn’t come, I should probably have had to come to you!  And that would have robbed me of everything I’ve been fighting for.  But now I shall know that I didn’t have to do what I knew to be wrong, and it makes me so happy, dear!  So happy!  So very, very happy!”

Sobbing she fell on her knees beside him and covered her face with her hands.  For a moment or so he made no answer, but continued to caress her in silence.  Then, slowly, he said: 

“Of course I came for you!  If I had known all that it meant to you I should have come long ago—­”

She looked up at him eagerly.

“Then you did miss me?”

He nodded.

“I can’t tell you how lonely I was.  You had Fanny and Jimmie and the baby, but I had no one.  As I sat alone in the house—­the bigness of which seemed to make it all the lonelier—­I thought of you, and your goodness, and sweetness and there I fought things out—­I fought them out, and now I can make you any promise that you ask.”