"Is that
it--John?"
Timidly, for the first time, her cheek against his shoulder, she spoke
his name. And before Duggan's eyes Keith kissed her.
Hours later, in a world aglow with the light of stars and a radiant
moon, Keith and Mary Josephine were alone out in the heart of their
little valley. To Keith it was last night returned, only more
wonderful. There was the same droning song in the still air, the low
rippling of running water, the mysterious whisperings of the mountains.
All about them were the guardian peaks of the snow-capped ranges, and
under their feet was the soft lush of grass and the sweet scent of
flowers. "Our valley of dreams," Mary Josephine had named it, an
infinite happiness trembling in her voice. "Our beautiful valley of
dreams--come true!" "And you would have come with me--that night?"
asked Keith wonderingly. "That night--I ran away?"
"Yes. I didn't hear you go. And at last I went to your door and
listened, and then I knocked, and after that I called to you, and when
you didn't answer, I entered your room."
"Dear heaven!" breathed Keith. "After all that, you would have come
away with me, covered with blood, a--a murderer, they say--a hunted
man--"
"John, dear.
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