“Take her away where she can have rest and quiet for half an hour; then she will be quite herself again.”
Winding her arm about her, Imelda was about to conduct her away when Owen laid his hand detainingly upon her arm,
“Will you not permit me?”
There was so much pleading in the manly voice and clear blue eyes that Imelda could not refuse him.
“You will take good care of her?” with a smile.
“Will I?—as of my life! May I, Cora?”
For answer Cora quietly laid her head against his shoulder, smiling into his eyes, and thus he led her from the room.
What if instead of the half hour they remained two long hours? and what if they thought it such a very little while and that they had not had a chance to say anything at all? Who would blame them? Doubtless it was true that they had said very little. Their hearts were too full to speak: too full of unutterable love and happiness, and certainly none in that room thought of blaming them. And when they returned Imelda and Norman were the first to greet them. Cora’s arms wound themselves about her sister’s neck while the men clasped hands with an undercurrent of feeling such as they had not felt before,
“So this is your charmed circle?” asked Owen Hunter in a husky voice, and smilingly Norman made answer:
“Don’t you find it so?”