"Aunt Emily, hands off!"
Raymond was suddenly stern, and Mrs. Tweksbury bowed before the tone.
But Raymond meant to make sure before he accepted defeat. He spurred himself to the test with the name of Emily Tweksbury on his lips. That name seemed to hold all his responsibilities and hopes—his long-ago past; the only claim upon the future except—— And in this Raymond was sincere. His own honest love for the girl who had entered his life so soon after his doubt of himself had had birth made him fear to put his feet upon the broad highway.
But he braced himself for effort and on a stormy, sleety January afternoon he telephoned to Nancy and asked her if she were to be free that evening.
She was. And—to his shame Raymond heard it gleefully—she had a "sniffy little cold" that made going out impossible.
"Are you afraid of sniffy colds?" asked Nancy, "they say they are catching!"
"I particularly like them," Raymond returned.
"We'll have a big fire in the sunken room and," here Nancy gurgled over the telephone, "we'll toast marshmallows."
Raymond presented himself as early as he dared and was told by the maid to go to the sunken room. Believing that Nancy was there awaiting him, he approached with a beaming countenance.
Cameron stood with his back to the roaring fire.