“Just the same, I’d rather go,” he muttered, obstinately.
“Here’s Phyllis now!” cried Mrs. Barron, in triumph.
So he had to get up and face her—the girl he had run away from when he had had so much to offer her. He had to face her, empty-handed, now; heartsick and weary after his bitter adventure.
And she seemed to him so wonderful, with that dear friendly smile.
“Mr. Ross!” she said.
She held out her hand, and he had to take it. He had to look at her—and then he could not stop. They forgot, for a moment; they stood there, hands clasped, looking at each other.
“Didn’t I know he’d come!” cried Mrs. Barron.
Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the September 1926 issue of Munsey’s Magazine.