Miller threw his cigar away and went to his room. He was ecstatically happy. The mere thought that Adele Bishop was under the same roof with him, and on the morrow was going to people who liked him, and leaned on his advice and experience, gave him a sweet content that thrilled him from head to foot.
“Perhaps I ought to tell Alan,” he mused, “but he 'll find it out soon enough; and, hang it all, I can' t tell him how I feel about his own sister, after all the rot I've stuffed into him.”
XXX
HE next morning, as soon as he was up, Alan went to his sister's room. He found her dressed and ready for him. She was seated before a cheerful grate-fire, looking over a magazine she had brought to pass the time on the train.
“Come in,” she said, pleasantly enough, he reflected, now that Miller was not present to absorb her attention. “I expected you to get up a little earlier. Those guns down at the bar-room just about daybreak waked me, and I couldn't go to sleep again. There is no use denying it, Al, we have a barbarous way of amusing ourselves up here in North Georgia.”