The effect of Cynthia's words upon Sandy was tragic. He closed his eyes in order that he might shut out the hurting power of her face and commanding eyes—but between the lids and his vision the girl mocked him—he could not escape her!
The night before his manhood had been stung to life by Mary's cruelty; it was fanned into live flame now by the childish tenderness of this girl so near to womanhood that the coming charm and sweetness glorified her. Then she touched him and a wave of delicious pain coursed through his body.
"How did—this happen?" A finger lightly passed over the bruise on his cheek. He could not answer.
"I know! But they couldn't hurt the you of you, Sandy. I see the bigness shining through everything. Why do you keep your eyes shut?"
Sandy opened his eyes desperately and saw only the child until eye met eye again, and then the vision of what Cynthia foretold shook him once more.
"My head—spins," he said vaguely; "the day's heat made it ache."
"You will take my money, Sandy?"
"Yes."
"And you will come back and—marry me?"
"I'll come back and—and——"