Page:Restless Earth.djvu/66

towards the hedge. Unwittingly she had thrown the paper where most often it was to be found after delivery by the boy who roared past on six evenings of the week.

“Perhaps we had better have a light,” Harley said, as he re-entered the room.

“Excellent idea,” agreed the girl, as he depressed the switch. “This room is haunted, and I’m as nervous as a cat.”

Harley looked at her keenly as she pretended to be absorbed in adjusting the angle of the clock on the mantel. He saw the blood’s swift ebb and flow under the velvety skin of her throat and cheek. He saw that she was trembling, and his sympathy was quickened.

“Pat,” he said softly, moving close to her as she bowed her head upon the mantel with overmastering emotion, “this is a pretty fierce business altogether. Say the word, and I’ll get your things. You don’t have to go in deeper, my dear. Perhaps to-morrow may———.”

She flung up her head and turned upon him swiftly.

“I’ve seen too many to-morrows, Jimmy,” she cried passionately, “and none ever proved as exciting as the to-days. To-morrow I may be afflicted with cowardice or another outbreak of self-sacrifice. To-day I don’t care what happens. I don’t care if the ghosts of forty Graces plead with me in this room to go and leave you in peace. I’m staying!”

She left the room swiftly, leaving him standing there exultant. He did not follow her to the drawing-room, as she half hoped he would. The paper-reading habit of years, and a sudden shyness—which he told himself was “delicacy,” held him where he was.

He was mildly surprised when he heard her throw back the key-fall of the piano. He had not expected her to go to the drawing-room.