And he would lean his forehead against her breast, and his long apprenticeship to love would be over.

It seemed to Michael that she was here already, her soft cheek against his.
He pressed his face to the stone wall, and whispered as to her: "Fay, have I served you ?" He almost heard her tremulous whisper, "Yes." "Do you still love me ?" "Yes." "We may love each other now." Again Fay's voice very low.

"Yes." It had to be like that.

This moment was only a faint foreshadowing of that unendurable joy, which inevitably had to come.
A great trembling laid hold on Michael.

He could not stand.