But I paid no attention to him. It was his companion I was staring at. What was he doing here?
“George!” I cried. “GEORGE!”
He stepped forward and held out his hand. He was smiling, but there was a look in his eye which expressed the exact opposite of smiles.
“Ros,” he said, quietly, “Ros Paine, you bull-headed, big-hearted old chump, how are you?”
But I could only stare at him. Why had he come to Denboro? What did his coming to me mean? Why had he come with Captain Jed, the man who had vowed that he was done with me forever? And why was the captain looking at me so oddly?
“George!” I cried in alarm, “George, you haven't—you haven't made a fool of yourself? You haven't—”
Captain Jed interrupted me. “He ain't the fool, Ros,” he said. “That is, he ain't now. I'm the fool. I ought to have known better. Ros, I—I don't know's you'll give it to me, but anyhow I'm goin' to ask it; I beg your pardon.”
“Ros,” said Taylor, before I could reply, “don't stand staring as if you were petrified. Sit down and let me look at you. You pig-headed old idiot, you! What do you mean by it? What did you do it for?”
He pushed me into the chair I had just vacated. Captain Dean took another. George remained standing.
“He IS petrified, I do believe!” he exclaimed.