Christine was sure to be not
far behind her mother.
He saw her at last, a laggard at the end of the hurrying procession.
She passed close by him. He stood motionless, seeing no one else,
thinking of no one but this slim, adorable girl who had no eyes for
him. At her side strode a tall, good-looking fellow whose manner
toward her could be mistaken for nothing short of simple adoration.
She was smiling brightly, even rapturously up into the eyes of this
eager swain. In another instant they were lost in the crowd that
rushed to the ferry, but David was never to forget that passing
glimpse of her--not to the day of his death.
She was all that his fondest dreams, all that his fairest prophecies,
had promised--nay, she surpassed them!
The pure, girlish face--the one of the deep, earnest eyes and tender
lips--had been toned and perfected and rechiseled by the magic hand of
Time. She was taller by several inches; a lissome creature who moved
with the sureness and grace of an almost exalted symmetry.
His dazzled, gleaming eyes followed her into the vortex below. A vast
wave of exultation suddenly rushed over him.
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