Chapter 18
CONTAINS ELMA'S STORYBefore me stood my love, a slim, tragic, rather wan figure in a
heavy dark traveling-coat and felt toque, her sweet lips parted and
a look of bewildered amazement upon her countenance as I burst in
so suddenly upon her.
In silence I grasped her tiny black-gloved hand, and then, also
in silence, raised it passionately to my eager lips. Her soft, dark
eyes—those eyes that spoke although she was mute—met mine, and in
them was a look that I had never seen there before—a look which as
plainly as any words told me that my wild fevered passion was
reciprocated.
She gazed beyond into the room where the others had assembled,
and then looked at me inquiringly, whereupon I led her forward to
where they were, and Muriel fell upon her and kissed her with tea
