“A day of grace,” she told herself.
It was some time later that, chancing to catch a glimpse of the talented young musician’s hand, she saw with a shock that they were covered with blisters.
“He has been shoveling snow in the street,” she told herself. An added ache came to her overburdened heart.
Dan Baker came in a moment later. Beating the snow from his hat, he threw it into a corner. Having shaken the snow from his hair, he advanced to greet Jeanne.
“He doesn’t know I saw him,” she thought, as she looked straight into his transparent blue eyes. “I am so glad.”
At first he seemed too tired for talk. Taking a place before the fire, he appeared to fall into a dreamy reverie.
At last, rousing himself, he drew from his pocket a coin that shone in the dim light. It was a gold piece, one of those rare two-dollar-and-a-half pieces. Jeanne started at the sight of it. How had he come by it? Had some one, mistaking it for a penny, dropped it in his cup?
Still looking at the coin, Dan Baker spoke one word: “Gold.”
His weary old eyes took on an unwonted brightness. “That reminds me. Once I was down on my luck as an actor. That was in Colorado.” He paused and his eyes appeared to grow misty with recollection.
“He’s off again,” Jeanne told herself. “But how wonderful!” Her eyes grew dim with tears. “How marvelous to be able to forget all that is sordid, cold and mean, all the heartaches of the present in one’s dreams of an unreal but charming past.”