“You are splendid; you are fine and brave and I am proud of you, Wayne, dear!”
His manner changed instantly and he caught her hands and clasped them tight. He was still breathing deeply from his long harangue, but in a moment he spoke quietly, with a return of the tenderness with which he had begun.
“I’m a beast to frighten you that way; and I must have hurt this poor little hand.”
He kissed it and swung her hands lightly, looking into her face tenderly.
“What a terrible big bear you are! And everything was peaceable and cosy and you let your temper get the better of you.”
The snow, still falling densely, had hastened the twilight and night was near. “We must go—at once—at once! What if the car wouldn’t run in the snow?”
“What if it wouldn’t! They can give us dinner here—right here on the hearth. They can always put up something—it’s the rule of the Club, and there’s no end of wood for the fire.”
“We are going straight home—just as straight as we can go. Please!”
She tried to free herself, but he held her hands fast, laughing into her eyes, and suddenly he put his arms around her and drew her close and kissed her full upon the lips. The firelight danced fitfully about them as they stood thus. He had raised his head to repeat the kiss, when steps sounded upon the veranda. Someone cried aloud once, twice, and beat upon the door, and when Wayne flung it open Jean Morley, frightened and sobbing, stumbled across the threshold.
Wayne plunged through the snow-filled dusk after a man who had turned away from the veranda steps and was running swiftly down the road. To his surprise the fugitive, who had at once widened the distance between them, stopped short and wheeled round.