The words spoke volumes.
“That’s right. An’ be ready to start for 297 Ashbury on the mornin’ train. We’d better leave here by six, sharp.”
“I’ll be on hand. Don’t worry.”
“Good night, Jane.”
“Good night.”
Still Jane lingered. Then drawing very close to her brother’s side, she added bashfully:
“I can’t but think, Martin, that instead of puttin’ up walls, Ellen Webster’s will has broken some of ’em down.”
For answer Martin did something he had never done before within the span of his memory; he bent impulsively and kissed his sister’s cheek.
Then as if embarrassed by the spontaneity of the deed, he sped upstairs.