An elderly servant in a blue apron regarded the stranger suspiciously.
He asked for her mistress.
She would see. Holding his card gingerly, she disappeared.
Now he would see….
Then, as he bent forward, listening, he heard through the open door a cry—not of horrified surprise, but of triumph and jubilation, such a cry of sudden joy as only a long and hopeless and unrestrainable yearning can send forth.
He thought he had heard wrong, but the smiling face of the returning servant reassured him.
He was to be made welcome.
Chapter III.
He entered. With outstretched hands, tears in her eyes, her face a-quiver with a vain attempt at equanimity—thus she came forward to meet him.
"There you are … there you are … you…."