Her face was
flushed with a pretty eagerness, and the petulant lines about her mouth
were far less apparent than of old. Her laugh had a gay spontaneous ring,
and though her voice still had a slightly arrogant inflection it was not
without softer notes when she addressed the squire.
"I feel as if we had been away for years and years," she said to him, as
they stood together before the blazing fire in the drawing-room. "Isn't
it strange, Edward? Only three months in reality, and such a difference!"
He was lifting the heavy coat from her shoulders, but she turned with it
impulsively and caught him round the neck.
"My dear!" he said, and clasped her coat and all.
"It is going to last, isn't it?" she said, her breath coming quickly.
"You promised--you promised--to love me just as much if I got well!"
He kissed her with reassuring tenderness. "Yes, my girl, yes! It's going
to last all right. We're going to make a happy home of it, you and I."
She clung to him for a few seconds, then broke away with a little laugh.
"You'll have to hunt this winter, Edward. You're getting stout."
"And shoot too," said the squire. "There promises to be plenty of birds.
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