Stafford laughed--for the well-known reason.
"Plucky little chap, isn't he?" he said, with a moved man's affectation
of levity. "He's made a splendid fight for it and won through. He's a
pretty little morsel--a well-bred 'un: wonder whom he belongs to?"
"To you--at least his life does," said Maude Falconer. "You couldn't
have fought harder for it if it had been a human being."
"Oh, a dog's the next thing, you know," he said, apologetically. "I'm
afraid it's been an awful nuisance and trouble for you. You haven't
blistered your hands, I hope? Let me see!"
She stretched out her hands, palm upwards, and he took them and
examined them.
"No. That's all right! 'All's well that ends well.' You want a few
lessons with the sculls, Miss Falconer, and you'd make a splendid
boat-woman. Perhaps you'd let me give you one or two?"
"Thank you; yes," she said; and to his surprise with less of her usual
half-scornful languor.
"Here's the tea. Any particular kind of cake you fancy?"
She said that the cakes would do, and poured out the tea; but he put
some milk into his saucer and gave some to the terrier, slowly,
methodically, and with a tenderness and gentleness which was not lost
upon the girl who watched him covertly before paying any attention to
his own tea.
Pages:
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268