“It's all right, dear,” Mary whispered. “Don't be scared. It's all right. Think of all the other women in the world.”
The conductor clanged the gong, and the two couples separated in a sudden hubbub of farewell.
“Oh, you Mohegan!” Bert called after, as the car got under way. “Oh, you Minnehaha!”
“Remember what I said,” was Mary's parting to Saxon.
The car stopped at Seventh and Pine, the terminus of the line. It was only a little over two blocks to the cottage. On the front steps Billy took the key from his pocket.
“Funny, isn't it?” he said, as the key turned in the lock. “You an' me. Just you an' me.”
While he lighted the lamp in the parlor, Saxon was taking off her hat. He went into the bedroom and lighted the lamp there, then turned back and stood in the doorway. Saxon, still unaccountably fumbling with her hatpins, stole a glance at him. He held out his arms.
“Now,” he said.
She came to him, and in his arms he could feel her trembling.