At breakfast the next morning she asked him what he had discovered at Las Vegas. He looked straight at her.
"There is no record of your birth," he said.
She paled. "Then Dale has grounds for his suspicion," she said in a weak voice.
"Because your birth was not recorded is no sign you are not a Bransford," he said. "I'll tell you this," he added gruffly: "as a sister you suit me from the ground up; an' I'll stick to you until hell freezes over!"
Not until that instant did she realize that she had entertained a fear that Sanderson would believe as Dale believed, and in an excess of joy over the discovery that he did believe in her she got up, ran around the table, seized Sanderson by the shoulders and laid her cheek against his.
"You're a dear," she said, "and I don't care whether you like it or not, I am going to kiss you!"
"Just once," he said, blushing.
She kissed him, and then leaned back, looking at him reprovingly.
"You haven't returned a kiss I have given you!" she said. "And I want you to!"
"All right," he agreed, and this time the warmth of his response made her draw a long, deep breath.