"Certainly," she answered: "I shall be glad to see you. It's a miserable day, Monte."
"It's raining a bit, but I don't mind."
"That's because you're so good-natured."
He frowned. It was a privilege he had over the telephone.
"Anyhow, what you can't help you may as well grin and bear."
"I suppose so, Monte," she answered. "But if I 'm to grin, I must depend upon you to make me."
"I'll be over in five minutes," he replied.
She needed him to make her grin! That was all he was good for. Thank Heaven, he had it in his power to do this much; as soon as he told her she was to be free again, the smile would return to her lips.
He went at once to the hotel, and she came down to meet him, looking very serious—and very beautiful. Her deep eyes seemed deeper than ever, perhaps because of a trace of dark below them. She had color, but it was bright crimson against a dead white. Her lips were more mobile than usual, as if she were having difficulty in controlling them—as if many unspoken things were struggling there for expression.
When he took her warm hand, she raised her head a little, half closing her eyes. It was clear that she was worrying more than even he had suspected. Poor little woman, her conscience was probably harrying the life out of her. This must not be.