Truedale had
never seen her gowned so, and he realized that she was extremely
handsome and--something more. She came close to him, drawing on her
long, loose, white gloves.
"I cannot bear to go and leave you--all alone!" she said, raising her
eyes to his.
"You see, John Morrell is showing us his brand-new wife to-night--and I
couldn't resist; but I'll try to break away early."
"You are eager to see--Mrs. Morrell?" Truedale asked, and suddenly
recalled the relation Lynda had once held to Morrell. He had not thought
of it for many a day.
"Very. You see I hope to be great friends with her. I want--"
"What, Lynda?"
"Well, to help her understand--John."
"Let me button your glove, Lyn"--for Truedale saw her hands were
trembling though her eyes were peaceful and happy. And then as the long,
slim hand rested in his, he asked:
"And you--have never regretted, Lyn?"
"Regretted? Does a woman regret when she's saved from a mistake and
gets off scot-free as well?"
They looked at each other for a moment and then Lynda drew away her
hand.
"Thanks, Con, and please miss us a little, but not too much. What will
you do to pass the time until we return?"
"I think"--Truedale pulled himself up sharply--"I think I'll go up under
the eaves and get out--the old play!"
"Oh! how splendid! And you will--let me hear it--some day, soon?"
"Yes.
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