Ruth looked up at Dulac.  “I think you—­better—­go,” she said, gently.  He looked at Ruth, looked at Bonbright.  Then he turned and, stumbling a little as he went, fumbling, to open the door, he obeyed.  They listened in silence to the slow descent of his footsteps; to the opening and closing of the door, as Dulac passed out into the street.

“Poor—­man!” said Ruth.

“Bonbright,” said Hilda, “do you believe me now?”

He nodded.  Hilda moved toward the door.  “If you want her—­cure her ...  Nobody else can.  You’ve got the only medicine.”  And she left them alone.

“I—­loved you all the time, but ...  I didn’t know ...  I was going ... to tell you ... and then he died.  Hilda knows.  You’ll ... believe me, won’t you?”

“Yes,” was all he could say.

“And you ... want me back?  You ... want me to be your ... wife?”

“Yes.”

She sighed happily.  “I’ll get ... well, then ...  It wasn’t worth the —­the bother before.”

Neither of them spoke for a time; then she said:  “I saw about it ... in the papers.  It was ... splendid.”  She used proudly the word Hilda had found for her.  “I was ... proud.”

Then:  “You haven’t ... said anything.  Isn’t there ... something you ... ought to say?”

He bent over closer and whispered it in her ear, not once, but many times.  She shut her eyes, but her lips smiled and her fragile arms drew his head even closer, her white hand stroked his cheek.

“If it’s all ...  Real,” she said, “why don’t you ...  Kiss me?”

Words were not for him.  Here was a moment when those symbols for thoughts which we have agreed upon and called words, could not express what must be expressed.  As there are tones too high or too low to be sounded on any instrument, so too there are thoughts too tender to be expressed by words.

“Do you really ...  Want me?” She wanted to be told and told again and again.  “I’ll be a ... nice wife,” she said.  “I promise ...  I think we’ll be ... very happy.”

“Yes,” he said.

“I’ll never ... run away any more ... will I?”

“No.”

“You’ll—­keep me close?”

“Yes.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

“And you won’t ... remember anything?”

“Nothing you don’t want me to.”

“Tell me again ...  Put your ... lips close to my ear ... like that ... now tell me ...

“I think I’ll ... sleep a little now ...  You won’t run away—­while my eyes are shut?”

“Never,” he said.

“Let me put my head ... on your arm ... like that.”  She closed her eyes, and then opened them to smile up at him.  “This is ... so nice,” she said.

When she opened her eyes again Bonbright was still there.  He had not moved ...  Her smile blossomed for him again, and it was something like her old, famous smile, but sweeter, more tender.