IV
From a room at the end of the hall young Randall appeared in his shirt sleeves, with his dark hair ruffled and his face flushed.
“Mildred!” he cried.
The fair-haired fellow disappeared.
“Mildred!” said Randall again.
She tried to speak, but she could not. She stood there just outside the door, with the book under her arm, only looking at him.
He came down the hall to her. He, too, was silent. From the room at the back she could hear laughter and the rattle of chips, and the air was heavy with tobacco smoke.
“Come in!” he said.
She shook her head mutely, but he took her hand, drew her into the little sitting room at the right, and closed the door after him.
A terrible despair filled her. She had done this incredible thing, come here after him, and now he would despise her!
“Sit down!” he said.
She was glad to do so, for her knees were trembling.
“I couldn’t—” she said unsteadily. “I couldn’t go—I was afraid.”
“Oh, darling!” he cried. He was on his knees beside her chair, with his dark head bent on her arm. “Oh, my darling girl!”
“Douglas!” she breathed, amazed, incredulous.
“I’m so sorry!” he said in a muffled voice. “My darling girl! For you to come here—you little angel! I’m so sorry!”
“I just thought—” she faltered.
“I’m so sorry!” he cried again. “I wish I could tell you! You’re such an angel, and I’m not fit to speak to you!”
She laid her hand on his head. He caught it in his own and raised it to his lips in reverence.
“Mildred,” he said, “you don’t know how I feel. I mean it when I say I’m at your feet.”
“But—” she began, and stopped, struggling with a new idea. “Is it like this?” she thought. “If I’m just kind to him, and generous—”
If she stooped in love and pity—if she came down from her pedestal—would he worship her? She put her arm around his neck.
“I do love you, Douglas!” she whispered.
He rose to his feet.
“Mildred,” he said, “you’ll see—I’ll do anything for you! I’m not half good enough, but, Mildred, I’ll try. I don’t care how long you want me to wait. I’ll do anything you tell me!”
When she had given him an inch, he had taken an ell; but when she was reckless in her giving, he stood before her like this, utterly humble.
“Just tell me what you want,” he said.
She was silent for a moment.
“I’d like you to come out to Hartford and see my father and mother,” she said gravely.
“All right!” he said. “I’ll get my hat and coat.”
He left the door of the room open, and she could hear his curt voice in the back room.
“I’m going, boys.”
“You can’t break up the party!” protested an indignant voice.
“I’ve got to go,” he said. “My—the girl I’m engaged to—wants me to go out to see her people.”
“Henpecked already!” observed the same indignant voice.
“Good-by!” said Randall. “You can take my chips, Fry. We’ll settle up later.”
When she had been dignified and reserved, he had been angry and unmanageable. When she ran after him, at such a cost to her pride, she became his sovereign lady, whose least word he obeyed.
“Men are queer!” thought Mildred.