But she would not. Yet when she stood at last on the train steps to say "Good-bye," she had in her hand one of the roses he had given her and which she had worn. She touched it lightly to her lips and tossed it to him.
By the time he had picked it up the train was on its way, and Evelyn, looking back, had her last glimpse of him standing straight and tall against the morning sky, the rose in his hand.
It was eight o'clock when Eric drove Anne and Peggy through the drifts to the Crossroads school. It was nine when Geoffrey Fox came down to a late breakfast. It was ten when Richard and his mother and the dog Toby in a hired conveyance arrived at the place which had once been Nancy's home.
Imposing, even in its shabbiness, stood the old house, at the end of an avenue of spired cedars.
As they opened the door a grateful warmth met them.
"David has been here," Nancy said. "Oh, Richard, Richard, what a glorious day to begin."
And now there came from among the shadows a sound which made them stop and listen. "Tick, tock," said the great hall clock.
"Mother, who wound it?"
Nancy Brooks laughed tremulously. "Cousin David had the key. In all these years he has never let the old clock run down. It seemed queer to think of it ticking away in this empty house."
There were tears in her eyes. He stooped and kissed her. "And now that you are here, you are going to be happy?"