“Say, Doc,” said Billy in an undertone, “about that tea and toast—”
“What the deuce—?” said the doctor impatiently. “Oh, yes—all right! Only look lively.”
“Keep her a-viewin' the scenery, Doc, a bit,” continued Billy under his breath.
“Oh, get a move on, Billy! What are you monkeying about?” said the doctor quite crossly. He was anxious to escape from a position that had become intolerable to him. For months he had been looking forward to this meeting and now he had bungled it. In the first place he had begun by not knowing the girl who for three years and more had been in his dreams day and night, then he had carried himself like a schoolboy in her presence, and lastly had frightened her almost to death by his clumsy announcement of her brother's accident. The young lady at his side, with the quick intuition of her Celtic nature, felt his mood, and, not knowing the cause, became politely distant.
On their walk to the hotel Dr. Martin pointed out the wonderful pearly gray light stealing across the plain and beginning to brighten on the tops of the rampart hills that surrounded the town.
“You will see the Rockies in an hour, Miss Cameron, in the far west there,” he said. But there was no enthusiasm in his voice.
“Ah, yes, how beautiful!” said the young lady. But her tone, too, was lifeless.
Desperately the doctor strove to make conversation during their short walk and with infinite relief did he welcome the appearance of Mandy at her bedroom door waiting their approach.
“Your brother's wife, Miss Cameron,” said he.
For a single moment they stood searching each other's souls. Then by some secret intuition known only to the female mind they reached a conclusion, an entirely satisfactory conclusion, too, for at once they were in each other's arms.