“I am,” John Carrington replied, and he meant it.
Hastings, wordlessly happy to feel Elenore’s hand resting lightly in his, pressed it tenderly as he tried to look into the eyes he had so longed to see.
Her long lashes veiled them distractingly.
Then she raised them to his with a certain laughing mockery which was delicious but baffling.
“Have I changed much?” she demanded, lightly.
“I shall have to look a long time to find out,” said Hastings. His voice shook a little.
She laughed with sweet spontaneity.
“I shall not waste myself on anyone with such a disgracefully bad memory,” she said, with mock reproach. “I shall devote myself to your uncle.”
She turned to Mr. Wade and proceeded to make her word good.