Angela gasped: “Oh, comeback, comeback, darling Miss Humf'ay!”
With a glare of defiance into Mrs. Chater's stormy eyes, my Mary stooped over David.
“David!” The calm ring of the tones he had learned to obey checked his clamour, his plunging kicks. She stooped; kissed him. “Be good as gold,” she commanded. “Promise.”
“Good as gold—yes—p'omise,” David choked.
Angela was given, and gave, the magic formula. Mary stepped back. Susan slammed the door.
With quivering lips my Mary walked to the cab.
“Drive down the street,” she choked; lay back against the cushions; gave herself to shaking sobs.
V.
Her George met her a very few yards down the street. He gave an order to the cabman and sat beside her.
It was not long before her grief was hushed. She dried her eyes; nestled against this wonderful fellow who, as love had now constituted her world, was the solace against every trouble that could come to her, the shield against any power that might arise to do her hurt.