“Is it Sergeant Troy?” said the blurred spot in the snow, tremulously.
This person was so much like a mere shade upon the earth, and the other speaker so much a part of the building, that one would have said the wall was holding a conversation with the snow.
“Yes,” came suspiciously from the shadow. “What girl are you?”
“Oh, Frank—don’t you know me?” said the spot. “Your wife, Fanny Robin.”
“Fanny!” said the wall, in utter astonishment.
“Yes,” said the girl, with a half-suppressed gasp of emotion.
There was something in the woman’s tone which is not that of the wife, and there was a manner in the man which is rarely a husband’s. The dialogue went on:
“How did you come here?”
“I asked which was your window. Forgive me!”
“I did not expect you to-night. Indeed, I did not think you would come at all. It was a wonder you found me here. I am orderly to-morrow.”