"But I didn't want to tell you I was the cabbage-patch boy until you understood me well enough to know what the red velvet queen could have meant to me. And now I can. Now I guess you do."
Her eyes widened with slow wonder. "For me?" she murmured, with breath coming quickly, with lifted brows and searching, humbled eyes. "Ever since that absurd goat episode, you have been building a life for me? And you knew that I would be kept for you? Would be ready for you when you were ready for me. You believed that?" There was a note of superstitious credulity in her tones.
"Yes, Fay," George's voice was low and almost religious. "It was just like a faith in the universe. Just as I believed in the goodness of God, so, little woman, I believed in you." He was looking levelly into her eyes.
The girl felt first a sense of being vastly complimented as if she had been selected for some signal honor. Then she felt humbled, unworthy of such steadfast devotion through those long, and to her, careless, unmindful years.
She rose up to fly, with quick, startled eyes. But there could be no flying. She was rooted to the spot. A nebulous rainbow cloud of delicious intimacy seemed to envelop them graciously. She was in his arms without an effort—on her part or his. Her hands were on
