Jim sprang to his feet, and looked into the bright smiling eyes.
“I’ve got a sewing-machine,” Eve went on, deliberately 412 mimicking him, “and––and some dollars. And I’m going to make a fresh start.”
Her manner of detailing her stock-in-trade, and the smile that accompanied her words were good to see. Jim’s heart beat hard beneath his buckskin shirt, and the light in his eyes was one of a hope such as he rarely permitted himself.
“Where?” he demanded. But he knew before she said the words.
“Canada, Edmonton. It’s––it’s a longish piece off––but–––”
Eve never finished her mimicry. In a moment she was in his arms, and her lips were silenced with his kisses.
Some minutes later she protested.
“You haven’t let me finish, Jim,” she cried.
But he shook his head.
“No need. I’ll tell you the rest. We’ll start in together, up there, and––we’ll keep the sewing-machine for home use. You see my socks ’ll sure need darning.”