"Good-morning," she said, giving the visitor her hand, and making her
manner at once as cordial and as unemotional as possible. "It was too
good of you to come all the way up here in this cold weather, just to
see me."
He pressed her hand with eagerness, and so meaningly that the color
flushed into her cheeks. His air seemed to her to have in it a
suggestion of intimacy which was irritating beyond endurance.
"There was nothing good about it," he answered. "I had to assure myself
by actual sight that you were safe; and, besides, it gave me an excuse
for coming, and I was only too glad of that."
"Sit down," Berenice said, ignoring the compliment. "It really was
frightful; but I came through safe. Grandmother wouldn't let me see the
paper this morning; but I know the details must have been horrible."
She grew grave as she spoke. She seemed again to see the whole terrible
sight. The wreck, thrusting out tongues of fire, the dead and the dying
strewn about on the snow; Wynne, at her feet, insensible and ghastly in
the uncertain light. She shuddered and drew in her breath.
"Oh, don't let's talk about it!" she exclaimed.
Pages:
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221