“I will, sir! Thank you for giving me another chance. I do love the girl, and I want to help her more than anything else in the world, but I’ll play the game fairly. You are right, of course. I can be of more assistance to her on the inside than working in the dark, and it would be better for everyone concerned if the truth could be brought to light. I’ll get the letter, and bring it to you to-night.”
Morrow was waiting at the foot of the subway stairs that evening when Emily appeared. The crisp, cold air had brought a brilliant flush to her usually pale cheeks, and her sparkling eyes softened with tender surprise and happiness when they rested on him. He thought that she had never appeared more lovely, and as they started homeward his hand tightened upon her arm with an air of unconscious possession and pride which she did not resent.
“May I come over after supper?” he asked, softly, as they paused at her gate. “I have something to tell you––to ask you.”
“Won’t you come in and have supper with me?” she suggested shyly. “Caliban and I will be all alone. My father will not be home until late to-night. He telephoned to me at the club and told me that he had closed the shop for the day and gone down-town on business.”
A shadow crossed her face as she spoke, the faint shadow of hidden trouble which he had noticed before. It was an auspicious moment, and Morrow seized upon it.
“I will, gladly, if you will let me wash the dishes,” he replied, with alacrity.
“We will do them together.” The brightness which 160 but an instant before had been blotted from her face returned in a warm glow, and side by side they entered the door.
With Caliban, the black kitten, upon his knees, Morrow watched as she moved deftly about the cheerful, spotless kitchen preparing the simple meal. He made no mention of the subject which lay nearest his heart and mind, and they chattered as gaily and irresponsibly as children. But when supper was over, and they settled themselves in the little sitting-room, a curious constraint fell upon them both. She sat stroking the kitten, which had curled up beside her, while he gazed absently at the rosy gleam of the glowing coals behind the isinglass door of the little stove, and for a long time there was silence between them.
At length he turned to her and spoke. “Emily,” he began, “I told you out there by your gate to-night that I had something to ask of you, something to tell you. I want to tell you now, but I don’t know how to begin. It’s something I’ve never told any girl before.”
Her hands paused, resting with sudden tenseness upon Caliban’s soft fur, and slowly she averted her face from him. He swallowed hard, and then the words came in a swift, tender rush.