Some one was coming.
Who?
The light footstep and the rustling dress showed that it was a lady.
But who?
Was it the servant?
Or Marion?
Was it Nora?
My heart actually stood still as these possibilities suggested themselves, and I sat glaring at the door.
The figure entered.
My heart gave a wild bound; the blood surged to my face, and boiled in my veins. It was Nora's self! It was—it was—my Nora!