“I shall get well now; I feel stronger already!” he exclaimed, gladly.
Several days passed without news from the detective, but he would not permit himself to be cast down.
“She will soon be found, my little love, my blue-eyed darling! I will be patient; I will wait; for when I find her again, we shall be parted no more, save by death itself!” he exclaimed.
They had talked it all over, and agreed that when Floy was found, St. George should persuade her to marry him at once.
She was friendless, homeless, and the sooner she became one of the family, the better.
There would be a nine-days’ wonder over the marriage, of course. But no matter; they were prepared to risk it, in their eagerness to make up to the young lover for all the pangs he had suffered.
Alva made him welcome in the studio, where he spent more than half his time.
The picture of Cupid, and the half-finished one of Maidenhood charmed him, and beguiled the long hours of waiting for Floy to be found.
He was surprised one day to receive a letter from Maybelle Maury.
She knew that he had come home at last, but she did not know that Floy had been hidden in his home all those weeks, so she hoped that the hapless girl had dropped out of all their lives forever. Perhaps she had committed suicide, after all?