I cannot remember that part of it, except
that I--Well, never mind about that--" he hesitated turning away
his gaze--the memory seemed to bring with it a certain pain.
"Yes,--tell me," she pleaded. She was too happy. This was what she
had been waiting for. There was no detail he must omit.
"It was nothing, only I kept thinking it was you who were hurt,"
he stammered.
"Me!" she cried, her eyes dancing. The ray of light was breaking--
one with a promise in it for the future!
"Yes,--you, Miss Ruth! Funny, isn't it, how when you are half dead
you get things mixed up." Oh, the stupidity of these lovers! Not a
thing had he seen of the flash of expectation in her eyes or of
the hot color rising to her cheeks. "I thought somebody was trying
to tell your father that you were hurt, and I was fighting to keep
him from hearing it. But you must thank Bolton for letting you
know."
Ruth's face clouded and the sparkle died out in her eyes. What was
Mr. Bolton to her, and at a time like this?
"It was most kind of Mr.
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