I looked at the young green spears, at the bookcases with their patterns of colour, at the warm rugs on the floor, at my desk ready for me by the window, at the student lamp upon it, at the crimson cushions on the twin settles, at the leaping flames on the hearths, and then at the bright, flushed, eager face of the girl, raindrops glistening in her hair.
She was sitting with a closed book on her knee, gazing into the fire
“I think it is wonderful,” said I. “I have my home at last! And how you have helped me!”
“Yes, you have your home,” said she. “Oh, it is such a nice one!”
She turned away, and went over to the east fire, poking it with her toe. I lit my pipe, sat down at my old, familiar desk, heaved a great sigh of comfort, and opened a manuscript.
“It’s only four o’clock,” said I. “I can get in that hour I wasted in sleep this morning. Can you find something to read?”
“I ought to,” she smiled.
I plunged into the manuscript–a silly novel. I heard Miss Goodwin on the other side of the settle, taking down a book. I read on. The room was very still. Presently the stillness roused me from my work, and I looked up. I could not see the girl, so I rose from my chair and tiptoed around the settle. She was sitting with a closed book on her knee, gazing into the fire. I sat down, too, and touched her arm.