Perhaps it was halfway between. To his growing discomfiture she came
slowly toward him with a strange and wonderful look in her face. And
McDowell still sat there staring.
His heart thumped with an emotion he had no time to question. In those
wide-open, shining eyes of the girl he sensed unspeakable tragedy--for
him. And then the girl's arms were reaching out to him, and she was
crying in that voice that trembled and broke between sobs and laughter:
"Derry, don't you know me? Don't you know me?"
He stood like one upon whom had fallen the curse of the dumb. She was
within arm's reach of him, her face white as a cameo, her eyes glowing
like newly-fired stars, her slim throat quivering, and her arms
reaching toward him.
"Derry, don't you know me? DON'T YOU KNOW ME?"
It was a sob, a cry. McDowell had risen. Overwhelmingly there swept
upon Keith an impulse that rocked him to the depth of his soul. He
opened his arms, and in an instant the girl was in them. Quivering, and
sobbing, and laughing she was on his breast. He felt the crush of her
soft hair against his face, her arms were about his neck, and she was
pulling his head down and kissing him--not once or twice, but again and
again, passionately and without shame.
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