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Presently she came. A buffet of wind struck her as she closed the door
behind her, and whipped her unbuttoned ulster about, but she did not
cower under it, nor turn away--stood there finely erect, confronting it.
There was something alert about her pose--he couldn't clearly see her
face--that suggested she was expecting somebody. And then, not loud, but
very distinctly:
"Roddy," she said.
He tried to speak her name, but his dry throat denied it utterance. He
began suddenly to tremble. He came forward out of the shadow and she saw
him and came to meet him, and spoke his name again.
"I saw you when you went out," she said. "I was afraid you mightn't
wait. I hurried as fast as I could. I've--w-waited so long. Longer than
you."
They were so near together now, that she became aware how he was
trembling--shuddering fairly.
"You're c-cold," she said.
He managed at last to speak, and as he did so, reached out and took her
by the shoulders. "Come home," he said. "You must come home.


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