“Jane!” he said, humbly. “Jane!”
The dogs were leaping around them both and Chicot was biting joyously at his gloved hand, but Miss Loring had drawn back.
“You!” she said.
“Yes,” softly. “I—I’m so glad to see you.”
He held his hand before him as though to parry an expected blow.
“Don’t,” he muttered. “Give me a chance. There’s so much I’ve got to say,—so much——”
“There’s nothing for you to say,” she said decisively. “If you’ll excuse me—I—I must be going at once.”
She turned away quickly, but the dogs were putting her dignity in jeopardy for the puppy still nosed Gallatin’s hand and showed a determination to linger for his caress.
“You’ve got to listen,” he murmured. “I’m not going to lose you again——”
“Come, Chicot,” said the girl in a voice which was meant to be peremptory, but which sounded curiously ineffective. Chicot would not go until Gallatin caught him by the collar and followed.