“I have known that always,” Katrine answered.
“And still you prefer to marry me?”
She was standing at a little distance from him, and as their eyes met she nodded her curly head quickly, as a child might have done.
“Ah,” he cried, opening his arms to her, “come to me, come to me, you divine little soul! I’m not worthy, but God knows how I will try to be!”
And a little later: “It is cold for you here,” he said. “Shall we go in, Mrs. Francis Ravenel?”