She had found Jack's heart wide open and had slipped inside, his
strong will henceforth to be hers.
Still cuddling close, her head on his shoulder, her heart going
out to him as she thought of the next morning and the task before
him, she talked of their coming move to the mountains, and of the
log-cabin for which Jack had already given orders; of the
approaching autumn and winter and what they would make of it, and
of dear daddy's plans and profits, and of how long they must wait
before a larger log-cabin--one big enough for two--would be
theirs for life--any and every topic which she thought would
divert his mind--but Garry's ghost would not down.
"And what are you going to do first, my darling?" she asked at
last, finding that Jack answered only in monosyllables or remained
silent altogether.
"I am going to see Uncle Arthur in the morning," he answered
quickly, uncovering his brooding thoughts. "It won't do any good,
perhaps, but I will try it. I have never asked him for a cent for
myself, and I won't now.
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