“I know, I understand, I’m willing! Only hurry! only telegraph that I will come! only—” she began to choke.
“I’ll tell you,” said he, putting her into the big chair again; “you shall go to him. Stay there a minute and I’ll get my railway guides and look it up right away. Collect yourself, be a good girl!”
He went out, and she folded her hands and prayed wildly:
“God, let him live! God, take me to him!” over and over again.
And then her impatience stretched the seconds into minutes, and she sought her cousin’s room, which was just across the hall from the suite given to herself.
She flung the door open without knocking and entered precipitately, expecting to find Jack and the railway guides. But Jack was not there.
There was a man there, sitting by the window, twisting his moustache and biting his lips in raging impatience. To this man Jack had said three minutes before, “She’ll be in here in less than sixty seconds. I’m going to the steamship office,” and then the man had been left to wait, and his was not a patient disposition....
A tall man, a dark man, a man whose hair lay in loose, damp, wavy locks above his high forehead; a man whose eyes were heavy-circled underneath, and whose long, white hands beat nervously upon the chair-arms.
At the sound of the opening door the man looked up. She was there, staring as if petrified, by the door.
He made one bound. She was within his arms.