Herbert shook himself loose from her detaining arm and walked to the window with a highly-offended air.
The laugh on Elsie’s lips and in her eyes died away, and after a moment’s pondering she followed him and said penitently: “Forgive me, Herbert; you know I love you more than——”
“What?” asked Herbert suspiciously.
“Money,” said Elsie sententiously.
“Bah!” exclaimed Herbert, angrily.
“Be calm, my friend! Now look me squarely in the eyes and behold your image reflected there as—I’m in earnest now—truly it is engraven on my heart, never to be erased as long as I live.”
Herbert’s reply was that speech of silence so eloquent to the ears of all lovers, and for the time being it bridged over the tide of their differences.
“Herbert,” said Elsie, when the silence had been effectively disposed of, “why do you never come to the Children’s Home Meetings?”
“In the first place, because I’ve never been asked, and in the second place, I’m not altogether in sympathy with the movement.”
A sudden pang shot through Elsie’s heart. “Please explain,” she said quietly.