“Oh—that something wonderful is going to happen.”
He was standing close to the low gate. She stood on the opposite side. Her hair was dark, her face seemed dusky, as she looked up at him with her dark, meaningful eyes.
“Did you wish some one would come?” he asked.
“Very much,” she replied, in her plangent voice.
He bent down, unlatching the gate. As he did so the woman in the black shawl turned and, glancing over her shoulder, hurried back to the house, walking unevenly in the snow, on her high-heeled shoes. The man hurried after her, hastening like a hound to catch up.
Meanwhile the girl and the policeman had come up. The girl stood still when she saw the man in the bowler hat going up the garden walk after the woman in the black shawl with the fringe.
“Is he going in?” she asked quickly.
“Looks like it, doesn’t it?” said the policeman.
“Does he know that woman?”
“I can’t say. I should say he soon will,” replied the policeman.