It was the look with which a war-hero sees the
medal pinned on his breast. It was the look of one who has come
into her Reward. Therefore:
"What nonsense!" said Emma McChesney. "If you hadn't had it in
you, it wouldn't have come out."
"It wasn't in me, in the first place," contested Jock stubbornly.
"You planted it."
From her stand at the foot of the bed she looked at him, her eyes
glowing brighter and brighter with that wonderful look.
"Now see here,"--severely--"I want you to go to sleep. I don't
intend to stand here and dispute about your ethical innards at
this hour. I'm going to kiss you again."
"Oh, well, if you must," grinned Jock resignedly, and folded her
in a bear-hug.
To Emma McChesney it seemed that the next three weeks leaped by,
not by days, but in one great bound. And the day came when a
little, chattering, animated group clustered about the slim young
chap who was fumbling with his tickets, glancing at his watch,
signaling a porter for his bags, talking, laughing, trying to hide
the pangs of departure under a cloak of gayety and badinage that
deceived no one. Least of all did it deceive the two women who
stood there. The eyes of the older woman never left his face.
Pages:
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125