Again in desperate fear she shrank from him, seeking wildly,
fruitlessly, for a way of escape.
And then came the consciousness of his arm about her, supporting her;
and the voice that had quieted her wildest delirium was speaking in
her ear.
"The goblins are all gone, dear," she heard him say. "Don't be
frightened."
He led her gently to a sofa and made her sit down, bending over her
and softly rubbing her cold cheek.
"Tell me when you're better," he said, "and we'll talk this thing out.
But don't be frightened anyway. It's all right."
The tenderness of voice and touch, the sudden cessation of all
tension, the swift putting to flight of her fear, all combined to
produce in her a sense of relief so immense that the last shred of her
self-control went from her utterly. She laid her head down upon the
cushions and burst into a storm of tears.
Nick's hand continued to stroke and soothe, but he said no more while
her paroxysm of weeping lasted. He who was usually so ready of speech,
so quick to console, found for once no words wherewith to comfort her.
Only when her distress had somewhat spent itself, he bent a little
lower and dried her tears with his own handkerchief, his lips
twitching as he did it, his eyes flickering so rapidly that it was
impossible to read their expression.
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