“Mr. Allan West acknowledges the receipt of Miss Heywood’s kind invitation and accepts with pleasure.”
“Good!” she cried, clapping her hands. “Then you’ll meet Bob and you’ll see what a lucky girl I am.”
“I think I’ll be more apt to see what a lucky fellow he is.”
“Well, we’re both lucky, and we’re going to be very, very happy.”
“I hope you will,” he said, heartily.
“Thank you, Allan; I know you do. And now here comes my car. Stop it for me. Good-bye,” she added, as the car came to a stop opposite them. “And I can’t tell you how glad I am I met you this afternoon. Good-bye!”
She waved her hand to him from the platform, and was gone.
He stood for a moment, watching the car, then turned slowly back toward the museum. He, also, was glad that he had met Betty Heywood—glad that she had been brave enough and clear-sighted enough to set him right with her and with the world.
And yet he realized dimly that there was suddenly a place vacant in his heart.