"Yes."
"Do you love me?"
Slowly, like two things in anguish, her eyes turned from their steady gazing into his. And, "I dare not say it," she said, "but I will go with you--and try."
They were aware of something pressing toward them, and turning with a common resentment against interruption, they found themselves looking down upon the legless man.
"Just dropped in to say good-by and wish you good luck," he said. His face wore a good-natured smile, and, quite innocent of self-consciousness, brought confusion upon their last moments together. The tentacles of unreasoning passion that each had been putting forth were beaten down by it and aside.
"Better get a move on--time's up."
"Good-by, Wilmot," said Barbara swiftly. "Everything's all right. Good luck to you and God bless you."
She turned, her lovely head drooping, and walked swiftly away.
A young man took off his hat and held it in his hands until she had passed. He had been watching her and Wilmot, and incidentally the legless man, for the last ten minutes. He hoped that she would look up and speak to him, but her mind was given singly to sorrow. And she went through the station to the street without knowing if it was crowded or deserted. Harry West's sad eyes followed her until she was out of sight. Then with a sort of wrench he turned once more to observe the actions of the legless man. This one, however, having said cheerful good-bys to the sulky and heartsick Wilmot, and having at the same time noted the obtrusive nearness of the secret-service agent, had made swift use of his crutches and stumps and was at the moment climbing into a waiting taxicab.
Whatever West's opinion may have been, Blizzard was making a sufficiently innocent disposition of time. He had prevented an elopement, perhaps. And he was on his way to a prominent florist to fill his cab with flowers for the evening's entertainment.