She didn't blush as she used to on occasions of this same nature, though she was a little shy. Her face was as beautiful as a newborn rose, and her hair was done up like a schoolgirl's is done when she expects to have company; her skirt was not of the tattered and worn variety that she wore when old Brindle made her first escape, and her slippers were tan—those Jack had brought as a present. They fitted her trim foot nicely. Her ankles were covered with lisle thread hose, not homespun cotton, like she wore when Wade first saw her. He now stepped to her side, and together they rounded up old Brindle, and soon had her headed homeward.
When Wade looked into Nora's smiling face he knew that he was an ardent lover, and he fully concluded he would never do one thing to offend her.
She looked into his face, her own beaming with joy.
"I'm never in a hurry to leave you, Jack."
"Thank you. Will it always be just so, Nora?"
"Always—that is, so long as both of us are alive, but——"
"But what? Don't hesitate, speak out."
"But times are fearful now. Tom will be out in another day or two, and then——"
"And then?" repeated Wade, although he felt it was not necessary for her to finish the sentence.
"And then," she continued, "something terrible may happen. Tom fumes all the time, cursing the luck that threw him so long idle, when he could have been doing so much. And then," she said again, looking tenderly at him, "your life is in imminent danger. You should keep a close watch at all times on Al Thompson. He hates you, and is only waiting for an opportunity to kill you. Will you keep a close watch, Jack?"