Douglas looked at her curiously. Janet abhorred roughing it. Riding around Stanley Park and an occasional game of tennis comprised the extent of her outdoor activities. Douglas glanced at the clock and came quickly to his feet. “I’d better hustle you home, Donald,” he said, “as we have to be up early.”
The tinted shade of the hall light lent a soft radiance to the dark beauty of Janet’s face and gave to her eyes a deep and languorous glow.
“I have enjoyed every moment. Thank you so much,” Donald said earnestly.
“I’m glad,” she answered in a quiet voice.
He took her hand and held it in a strong pressure. “I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Yes,” she murmured softly.
The door closed gently and Janet heard him run down the steps to the whirring motor. She stood immovable until the sound of the car died in the distance, then walked meditatively to the fireplace, sank to a big chair and stared dreamily into the dying embers. Idly she reached for the evening paper and spread it on her knees.
“Such dignity and poise! He is wonderful!” she whispered aloud. “I must ask Douglas more about him.”
She lowered her eyes to the paper, then came slowly to her feet, a look of blank amazement on her face. Smiling up at her was the face of the man of whom she had been dreaming.
“Canadian Champion