McDowell! And when I told him your
injury troubled you more than usual, and that I was glad you were
resting, I think I heard him swallow hard. He thinks a lot of you,
Derry. And then he asked me WHICH injury it was that hurt you, and I
told him the one in the head. What did he mean? Were you hurt somewhere
else, Derry?"
Keith swallowed hard, too. "Not to speak of," he said. "You see, Mary
Josephine, I've got a tremendous surprise for you, if you'll promise it
won't spoil your appetite. Last night was the first night I've spent in
a real bed for three years."
And then, without waiting for her questions, he began to tell her the
epic story of John Keith. With her sitting opposite him, her beautiful,
wide-open, gray eyes looking at him with amazement as she sensed the
marvelous coincidence of their meeting, he told it as he had not told
it to McDowell or even to Miriam Kirkstone. A third time the facts were
the same. But it was John Keith now who was telling John Keith's story
through the lips of an unreal and negative Conniston. He forgot his own
breakfast, and a look of gloom settled on Wallie's face when he peered
in through the door and saw that their coffee and toast were growing
cold.
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