Alexander
did not sit down. He stood his ground
over by the windows until Hilda came in.
She called his name on the threshold, but in
her swift flight across the room she felt a
change in him and caught herself up so deftly
that he could not tell just when she did it.
She merely brushed his cheek with her lips and
put a hand lightly and joyously on either shoulder.
"Oh, what a grand thing to happen on a
raw day! I felt it in my bones when I woke
this morning that something splendid was
going to turn up. I thought it might be Sister
Kate or Cousin Mike would be happening along.
I never dreamed it would be you, Bartley.
But why do you let me chatter on like this?
Come over to the fire; you're chilled through."
She pushed him toward the big chair by the fire,
and sat down on a stool at the opposite side
of the hearth, her knees drawn up to her chin,
laughing like a happy little girl.
"When did you come, Bartley, and how
did it happen? You haven't spoken a word."
"I got in about ten minutes ago. I landed
at Liverpool this morning and came down on
the boat train."
Alexander leaned forward and warmed his hands
before the blaze. Hilda watched him with perplexity.
"There's something troubling you, Bartley.
What is it?"
Bartley bent lower over the fire. "It's the
whole thing that troubles me, Hilda. You and I."
Hilda took a quick, soft breath. She
looked at his heavy shoulders and big,
determined head, thrust forward like
a catapult in leash.
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