"Mary, is it you?"
I looked up, the blood rushed to my face and a dazzling mist floated before my eyes, so that for a moment I could hardly see who was there. But I knew who it was—it was Martin himself.
He came down on me like a breeze from the mountain, took me by both hands, telegram and all, and said:
"My goodness, this is stunning!"
I answered, as well as I could for the confusion that overwhelmed me.
"I'm so glad, so glad!"
"How well you are looking! A little thin, perhaps, but such a colour!"
"I'm so glad, so glad!" I repeated, though I knew I was only blushing.
"When did you arrive?"
I told him, and he said: