"Will you be over this way again, Grace?" he asked when he stopped to part.
"I expect I will, Duke."
"Tomorrow, do you think?"
"Not tomorrow," shaking her head in the pretty way she had of doing it when she spoke in negation, like an earnest child.
"Maybe the next day?"
"I expect I may come then, Duke—or what is your real name?"
"Jeremiah. Jerry, if you like it better."
She pursed her lips in comical seriousness, frowning a little as if considering it weightily. Then she looked at him in frank comradeship, her dark eyes serious, nodding her head.
"I'll just call you Duke."
He left her with the feeling that he had known her many years. Blood between them? What was blood? Thicker than water? Nay, impalpable as smoke.