She obeyed. Their eyes met. She colored richly, looking like an embodiment of the morning as she stood against the sombre green of the stately pines. Freedom was before her: freedom to live, and to work, with the knowledge that she was no longer alone in the world. That was cause enough for the happiness that shone in her eyes; but that was not filling her thoughts to overflowing while Irving clasped her rough little hands close. It was the remembrance of the pounding terror of his heart in the moment when they had clung together on the dizzy rock.
“Don’t forget, Rosalie. I am your ally.”
She stood silent, her starry gaze not dropping before his.
“Friendship is going to mean a great deal to us,” he went on. “I feel it. Remember; for—
“‘Friendship is the breathing rose, with sweets in every fold.’”
CHAPTER XVIII
HOMEWARD BOUND
When Betsy Foster awoke that morning she was full of excitement.
She assisted Mrs. Bruce as usual with her toilet, and at the first possible moment hastened to the apartment of her contraband protégée.