CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"Why Do You Look At Me So Strangely?"
The first books came, and among the many orders to be delivered, was one for the girl who had reminded Wyeth of a person who now belonged to a closed chapter of his life. He carried her the book.
"My madam has not paid me yet," she said regretfully, "but if you can bring it back next week, I will be delighted to take it."
He did so, and she was as good as her word. "I hope I shall enjoy it," she said, as she paid him.
"I hope so too," said he. "Practically all I have sold to told me that they liked it," he added. He looked at her, and while he was not aware of it, in that moment he had an insane desire. The past and the one connected with it, rose for one brief second before him, as he had known it. She noted the strange look, and was embarrassed. Presently she recovered from the effect it had, and said:
"Why do you look at me so strangely?"
"I don't know," he replied, non-committally.