Esther wrapped a hood close about her head and walked back and forth on the verandah. A low wind among the white boughs made a lullaby for her longing.
The nearer the realization, the more impatient she grew.
At last the sound of wheels, and the brisk stepping of horses charmed her heart—he was coming. She heard the sound of his voice as there was a halt at the gate.
“Oh, it’s you, is it, Mr. Glenn?”
“Who else did you expect?” asked Glenn Andrews, stretching out his hand cordially to greet her, enjoying the dignity she tried to assume. He had speculated as to how she would meet him.
The fire roaring up the wide chimney was sweeter than music to him. It had been a cold ride. They were so glad to see him, Glenn thought it was the next best thing to going home.
“Get up close and warm yourself.” Esther shivered at the thought of his being cold.
“Let me have your coat, Mr. Glenn.”
“No, it’s too heavy; I’ll lay it over here.” Folding it he threw it across a divan and drew his chair up to the fire.
Esther leaned on the edge of the mantle, looking at him. The wind had blown in her hair, it lashed about her face, and with the old careless gesture she tossed it back, impatiently.