Craige’s handsome face, alight with eagerness, altered. “I will keep my word—” he said. “One month, Cecelia, and then the whole world is to know of my happiness—”
“Our happiness—” she corrected softly. Craige caught her hands and pressed the palms against his face before kissing them with lingering tenderness.
“A la bonne heure!” he exclaimed, and his voice betrayed his happiness. “Cecelia, you grow prettier every day.”
“My mirror is not so kind as you, Charles!” A sigh accompanied the words, and she swiftly changed the subject. “Have you seen Kitty Baird to-day?”
“I am on my way there now.” A worried look crossed his face. “That poor girl seems fated for tragedy. You heard of the attempt to kill Ted Rodgers last night in the Park, did you not?”
“I understood that it was an accident.” Horror crept into Mrs. Parsons’ eyes. “How dreadful!”
“Kitty declares that the headlights of the car blinded her, and that she has no idea of the identity of the person who did the shooting. She says that she could not even tell whether it was a man or a woman.”
Craige, sitting facing the light from the western window, failed to detect the faint alteration in Mrs. Parsons’ expression.
“How is Ted Rodgers?” she asked. “Out of danger?”
“I haven’t heard; which reminds me that I am to meet Dr. McLean at ‘Rose Hill’ at three o’clock.” Craige rose. “I sincerely hope that Ted recovers—it will kill Kitty if anything happens to him.”