CHAPTER XXXIII
A COUNT TO TEN
She merely stared, like a child which may either burst into tears or laughter, no one can prophesy which.
He explained, rather worried: "You see, you are a girl, Jack, and I remembered that you were pleased about those clothes that you wore to the dance in Crittenden Schoolhouse, and so when I saw that pin I—well—"
"Oh, Pierre!" said a stifled voice, "Oh, Pierre!"
"By Jove, Jack, aren't angry, are you? See, when you put it at the throat it doesn't look half bad!"
And to try it, he pinned it on her shirt. She caught both his hands, kissed them again and again, and then buried her face against them as she sobbed. If the heavens had opened and a cloudburst crashed on the roof of the house, he would have been less astounded.
"What is it?" he cried. "Damn it all—Jack—you see—I meant—"
But she tore herself away and flung herself face down on the bunk, sobbing more bitterly than ever. He followed, awestricken—terrified.
He touched her shoulder, but she shrank away and seemed more distressed than ever. It was not
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