“What need of formality between sworn friends?” he asked.
“I’m starting out on a new life, Mr. Bruce,” she said, turning and looking at him with a direct gaze.
She seemed to him enchanting. He knew, better than she, that she was starting out in a new life; and he begrudged it, strangely. He knew her to be all unconscious as yet of her own charm and power. He dreaded the opening of those clear eyes that as yet were so modest—the windows through which one perceived her innocence. While he was justly angry with Betsy for rousing unthought-of suspicion and caution, he could not deny the justice of her sympathy.
He met the blue gaze with a smile that set the pulse to beating faster.
“You don’t intend to forget old friends for new, do you?” he asked.
“‘There is no friend like the old friend, who has shared our morning days,’
you know. This little audience was enthusiastic over you, and audiences always will be; but—
“‘Fame is the scentless sunflower, with gaudy crown of gold,’
remember.”