"I see there are some more stairs," said Dunham, looking about. "Shall we do the thing thoroughly? Let's go to the top."
He preceded the girl up the steep flight, and turned to give her his hand for the last steps. Sylvia emerged upon a newly-placed floor, and looked about her in a daze.
She glanced back at Dunham, then again her wondering eyes swept the great apartment in which she found herself.
It was a studio, furnished with every convenience for an artist's work, and many luxuries for an artist's idleness.
Again the girl turned pale, as at the moment when first she discovered the Tide Mill this morning.
She sank into a wicker chair by one of the many windows framing their vast views, and continued silent.
Dunham pulled up an ottoman to her feet, and sat upon it.
She dared not believe the signs in his eyes. "You are Uncle Calvin's messenger"—she began, at last.
He shook his head. "No, I've bought this mill myself for a wedding present; but whether for my bride or another man's I don't know yet. The only objection to this plan has been that it appeared to take a good deal for granted, and I want you to know that it doesn't. You said Love would open the shutters, and it has; but I don't know how much you care for me, I only know how much I care for you."
Sylvia's eyes, startled, incredulous, tender, filled slowly from her heart, until again John met that Look, never for one second forgotten.