The gentleness of her tone softened the reproach, if reproach there was; and Wolf was conscious of nothing but an obscure rebellion within him against this mysterious pride in them both which made it so hard for him to risk the relief of the least caress. It was his turn to sigh now⁠—a heavier sigh than hers⁠—and in a second she caught his change of mood.

“I love you so much, Wolf,” she said. “I wouldn’t hurt you for anything. It’s what I feel for you that makes it so hard when you’ve got to go and I’ve got to go. And I know what you mean⁠ ⁠… I do know what you mean⁠ ⁠… about⁠ ⁠… about our thoughts!”

As she spoke she moved towards him a little in the darkness. It was an almost imperceptible movement; but it was enough to send a perilous stab of tenderness through his nerves.

“Christie, oh, Christie⁠ ⁠…” he murmured, involuntarily starting towards her.