He went to her, put his arm about her, and held her tightly and kissed her.
“To prove my hate, dear,” he whispered, and then he went out with a very thoughtful look on his face.
In the yard he saw Ellice.
“Gipsy girl,” he said, “come with me. Let’s go out—anywhere in the car for a ride—it doesn’t matter where. Come with me!”
Her face flushed, then paled.
“No thank you!” she said coldly. “I am busy doing something for Joan.”
Johnny sighed with disappointment, there was pain in his eyes too. In the old days she would not have refused; she would have come gladly.
“My little Gipsy girl is against me too!” He walked away slowly and dejectedly, and the girl watched him. She lifted her hands and pressed them hard against her breast, and then—then Johnny heard the light fall of swift-moving feet. He felt a clutch on his arm, and turned. He saw a flushed face, bright eyes were looking into his.
“If—if you want me to, I’ll come,” she said. “I’ll come with you—anywhere!”
He did not answer. His hands had dropped on to her shoulders; he stood there holding her and looking into her face, glowing with a beauty that he had never seen in it before, and in his eyes was still that puzzled look, the look of a man who does not quite understand.