“No, I hardly think so.”
“Oh, you can’t tell. Some guys can have mashes on two or three at a time, you know.”
“Angelo, please, let’s not talk this way. I do not like it. And I do not wish my friends to criticize my other friends. I know you like Mr. Inglish best of all, and that is why you try to underrate the others—but please don’t.”
“Oh, I think he is smart enough,” said Angelo ingratiatingly. “It ain’t that. I just don’t like his wishing foreign dames off on to you because you are easy and will stand for it.”
“Listen—they are coming.”
Angelo got out then and clambered in beside her, and they both peered into the darkness whence footsteps came. The two were walking slowly, Hiltze leading the girl carefully. She walked shrinkingly, her face showing deathly pale in the shadowy night.
Eveley got out at once and went to meet them, surprised at the great wave of tenderness sweeping over her. She felt somehow that it was a daughter of hers, coming back to her out of suffering and sorrow. She put her arms protectingly about the girl, and kissed her cheek.
“Marie,” she said softly, “you are going to be my sister. I—I think I love you already. I felt it when I saw you come out of the darkness.”
The girl did not speak, but her slender fingers closed convulsively about Eveley’s, and there was a catch like a little sob in her throat.
Eveley herself helped her into the car, and pulled the rugs and blankets about her.