Part 20 (2/2)
”You've proven that,” he remarked with a dry humour that brought the hot flush to her face again.
”I must have been crazy that day,” she said. ”It scares me to remember what I tried to do.... What a frightful thing--if I had killed you----How _can_ you forgive me?”
”How can you forgive _me_, Eve?”
She turned her head: ”I do.”
”Entirely?”
”Yes.”
He said,--a slight emotion noticeable in his voice: ”Well, I forgave you before the darned gun exploded in our hands.”
”How _could_ you?” she protested.
”I was thinking all the while that you were acting as I'd have acted if anything threatened _my_ father.”
”Were you thinking of _that_?”
”Yes,--and also how to get hold of you before you shot me.” He began to laugh.
After a moment she turned her head to look at him, and her smile glimmered, responsive to his amus.e.m.e.nt. But she s.h.i.+vered slightly, too.
”How about that egg?” he inquired.
”I can get up----”
”Better keep off your feet. What is there in the pantry? You must be starved.”
”I could eat a little before supper time,” she admitted. ”I forgot to take my lunch with me this morning. It is still there in the pantry on the bread box, wrapped up in brown paper, just as I left it----”
She half rose in bed, supported on one arm, her curly brown-gold hair framing her face:
”--Two cakes of sugar-milk chocolate in a flat brown packet tied with a string,” she explained, smiling at his amus.e.m.e.nt.
So he went down to the pantry and discovered the parcel on the bread box where she had left it that morning before starting for the cache on Owl Marsh.
He brought it to her, placed both pillows upright behind her, stepped back gaily to admire the effect. Eve, with her parcel in her hands, laughed shyly at his comedy.
”Begin on your chocolate,” he said. ”I'm going back to fix you some bread and b.u.t.ter and a cup of tea.”
When again he had disappeared, the girl, still smiling, began to untie her packet, unhurriedly, slowly loosening string and wrapping.
Her attention was not fixed on what her slender fingers were about.
She drew from the parcel a flat morocco case with a coat of arms and crest stamped on it in gold, black, and scarlet.
For a few moments she stared at the object stupidly. The next moment she heard Stormont's spurred tread on the stairs; and she thrust the morocco case and the wrapping under the pillows behind her.
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