"What are you thinking of, David?" she asked, impressed by the look in
his eyes and the unconscious nodding of his head.
"Of you," he said, catching himself up quickly. "Always of you,
dearest."
"You were thinking of what I said to you a moment ago," she said
steadily.
"Yes," he agreed, "and of what you said to me five years ago."
Soon afterward he prepared to depart. She ran upstairs to tell her
mother that he wanted to see her. She had kissed him good night. He
did not see her again. Later on, she stood straight and tense, in the
center of her bedroom floor, her hands to her breast, waiting for her
mother's return. Vaguely she felt that something harsh and bitter was
to be made known to her before she slept that night.
In lowered tones David Jenison was saying to Mary Braddock: "She must
be told everything to-night. It isn't safe to put it off. She is
strong and she knows that I am staunch. Nothing else should matter. We
don't know what to-morrow may bring, but she must be as fully prepared
for the worst as we are. It isn't fair to her. Tell her everything."
"Yes," she said steadily.
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