" And my hair was so heavy and thick
that, if I pulled out the pins, it would fall around me "in a black
avalanche."
Ah, the joy and the pain of hearing these words like an echo of music I
had nearly missed! There's no language for what I felt. But you will
understand.
He had told his mother about our day together. He said, he kept falling
deeper in love every minute, and it was all he could do not to exclaim,
"Girl, I simply _must_ marry you!" He dared not say that lest I should
refuse, and there would be an end of everything. So he tried as hard as
he could to make me like him, and remember him till he should come back,
in two weeks. He thought that was the best way; and he would have let
his bet slide if he hadn't imagined that a little mystery might make him
more interesting in my eyes. Believing that we had met again, Mrs.
Beckett supposed that he had explained this to me. But of course it was
all new, and when she came to the reason why Jim Wyndham had never come
back, I thought for a moment I should faint. He was taken ill in Paris,
three days after we parted, with typhoid fever; and though it was never
a desperate case--owing to his strong constitution--he was delirious for
weeks. Two months passed before he was well enough to look for me, and
by that time all trace of us was lost. Brian and I had gone to England
long before. Jim's friend--the one with whom he had the bet--wired to
the Becketts that he was ill, but not dangerously, and they weren't to
come over to France.
Pages:
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50