with her hands, bowing her head to her knees.

“Yet you bid me hope, Lois?” I asked under my breath.

She nodded.

“You make me happy beyond words,” I whispered.

She looked up from her hands:

“Is that all you required to make you happy?”

“Can I ask more?”

“I — I thought men were more ruthless — more imperious and hotly impatient with the mistress of their hearts — if truly I am mistress of yours, as you tell me.”

“I am impatient only for your happiness; ruthless only to secure it.”