The old man disengaged his hands, clasped her face with them, turned it up to him, and gallantly kissed it. “Your sunshine warms my old bones,” he said. “I’m glad you’re back at Cragsfoot, Lucinda.” He turned away quickly and left us.
I went to her and raised her from her knees.
“That’s all right!” she said, with a tremulous but satisfied little laugh. “And I love him even more than I’ve tried to make him love me—and that’s saying a good deal to you, who’ve seen me practice my wiles! Are the tricks stale to you, Julius?”
“Yes. Try some new ones!”
“Ah, you’re cunning! The old ones are, I believe—I do believe—good enough for you.”
“The new ones had better be for Nina!”
“In five years, Julius, as sure as I live—and love you!”
“How do you propose to begin?” I asked skeptically. I knew my Nina! I knew Lucinda. It seemed, at the best, a very even bet whether she could bring it off.
Lucinda laughed in merry confidence and mockery. “Why, by giving her to understand that you make me thoroughly unhappy, of course. How else would you do it?”
THE END