“Arthur,” she said, muffled against him. “Are you crying? Are you crying because you love me, and you’re so pleased to see me?” “Jesus,” Arthur said thickly. “I’m crying because I was just in a bloody battle. It was awful, I hated every second of it and I would not recommend it to a friend. And, yes, I suppose—I suppose I’m also crying because I love you and I’m so pleased to see you. Idiot.”
