" He was not nervous. He was in an ecstasy. His eyes were
drinking in the round of her throat and the waves of glorious hair
that crowned her lovely head. He noticed, too, some tiny threads
that lay close to her ears: he had been so hungry for a glimpse of
them!
"Oh, I hope so, but you shouldn't have come to the station that
day," she struggled on. "We had Uncle Peter with us, and only a
hand-bag, each of us,--we came away so suddenly."
"I didn't want you to be frightened about your father. I didn't
know that Uncle Peter was with you; in fact, I didn't know much of
anything until it was all over. Bolton sent the telegram as soon
as he got his breath."
"That's what frightened us. Why didn't YOU send it?" she was
gaining control of herself now and something of her old poise had
returned.
"I hadn't got MY breath,--not all of it. I remember his coming
into my room where they were tying me up and bawling out something
about how to reach you by wire, and he says now that I gave him
Mr. Grayson's address.
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