"Oh, let him go on—don't mind him," said Estelle. "Let's desert him; I guess that will make him sorry."
Upon the word they all withdrew, and Rivers smiled. "Good riddance," said he.
Miss Baker presently opened the door, and, shaking a letter, said, "Don't you wish you knew?"
He pretended to hurl a biscuit at her, and she shut the door with a shriek of laughter.
Mrs. Burke slipped in. Her voice was low and timid, her face sombre.
"I cooked the supper, Jim."
"You did? Well, it's good. The biscuits are delicious." He looked at her as only a husband should look—intimate, unwaveringly, secure. "You're looking fine!"
She flushed with pleasure. As she passed him with the tea, he put his arm about her waist.
"Be careful, Jim," she said, gently, and with a revealing, familiar, sad cadence in her voice.
He smiled at her boyishly. He was beautiful to her in this mood. "I was hoping you'd come over and stew something up for me. Hello, there's the thunder! It's going to rain!"