They stood close
together, looking out into the wan, watery sky, breathing always more
quickly and lightly, and it seemed as if all the clocks in the world
had stopped. Suddenly he moved the clenched hand he held behind him
and dropped it violently at his side. He felt a tremor run through the
slender yellow figure in front of him.
She caught his handkerchief from her throat and thrust it at him without
turning round. "Here, take it. You must go now, Bartley. Good-night."
Bartley leaned over her shoulder, without touching her, and whispered in
her ear: "You are giving me a chance?"
"Yes. Take it and go. This isn't fair, you know. Good-night."
Alexander unclenched the two hands at his sides. With one he threw down
the window and with the other--still standing behind her--he drew her
back against him.
She uttered a little cry, threw her arms over her head, and drew his
face down to hers. "Are you going to let me love you a little, Bartley?"
she whispered.
CHAPTER V
It was the afternoon of the day before Christmas. Mrs. Alexander had
been driving about all the morning, leaving presents at the houses of
her friends. She lunched alone, and as she rose from the table she spoke
to the butler: "Thomas, I am going down to the kitchen now to see Norah.
In half an hour you are to bring the greens up from the cellar and put
them in the library. Mr. Alexander will be home at three to hang them
himself. Don't forget the stepladder, and plenty of tacks and
string.
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