"Look here!" he called in a hushed tone.
Genevieve hesitated, and came to him with reluctant slowness. But when she reached his side and saw what it was he was looking at so intently, her cold face warmed with a tender glow, and, unable to restrain her emotion, she pressed her cheek against his arm. He quivered, yet made no attempt to take advantage of her weakness.
"Tom! oh, Tom!" she whispered. "It's exactly the color of the other one!"
"Wish this snake was as easy to smash!" he muttered.
"It will be!" she reassured him. He made no response. After a short silence, she said, "In memory of that, Tom, I wish you would kiss me."
He bent over and touched his lips to her forehead with reverent tenderness. That was all.
When Mrs. Gantry came in on them, they were still standing side by side, but apart, contemplating the great crimson amaryllis blossom. Their attitude and their silence were, however, sufficient to quicken her apprehensions.
"My dear child," she reproached Genevieve, "you should know that this damp mouldy air is not wholesome for you."
"She's right, Miss Jenny," agreed Blake. "It's too much like
Mozambique—gets your thoughts muddled. You've failed to do as you said
you would. I ought to've gone sooner. Good-day, Mrs. Gantry. Good-day,
Miss Jenny."
He turned away with decisive quickness.