JOURNEY’S END
I
“Steve!” It was the girl who spoke, but the man did not seem to hear. He was staring through the window, unseeingly, into the heart of his bitter foe, Winter. He sat silent, helpless.
“Steve!”
At last he awoke.
“Mollie!––girlie!”
An hour had passed since he left the doctor’s office to reel and stagger drunkenly through the slush and the sleet, and the icy blasts, which bit cruelly into his very vitals.
Now he and Mollie were alone in the tiny library. Babcock had been warmed, washed, fed. Seemingly without volition on his part, he was before the hard-coal blaze, his feet on the fender, the light carefully shaded from his eyes. Once upon a time–– 240
But Steve Babcock, master mechanic, had not lost his nerve––once upon a time.
“Steve”––the voice was as soft as the wide brown eyes, as the dainty oval chin––“Steve, tell me what it is.”