She moved, and the light from the hall shone on her face.
The eyes were brilliant, the lips were half parted.
It was Gertrude Hunt.
| · | · | · | · | · |
They were sitting on each side of the fire.
Grertrude was pale, but her dark beauty blazed at him.
She was smoking a cigarette, just as in the old time.
A little table with a caraffe of brandy and bottles of seltzer in a silver stand stood between them.
Llwellyn's face was one large circle of pleasure and content. His eyes gleamed with an evil triumph as he looked at the girl.
"Good Heavens!" he cried, "why, Gertie, it's almost worth while losing you to have you back again like this. It's just exactly as it used to be, only better; yes, better! So you got tired of it all, and you've come back. What a little fool you were ever to go away, dear!"
"Yes, I got tired of it," she repeated, but in a curiously strained voice.
He was too exhilarated to notice the strange manner of her reply.
"Well, I've got any amount of ready cash now," he said joyously. "You can have anything you like now that you've given up the confounded parsons and become sensible again."
She seemed to make an effort to throw off something that oppressed her.
"Now, Bob," she said, "don't talk about it. I've been a little fool, but that's over. What a lot you've got to tell me! What did you do all the time you were away? Where did you raise the 'oof from? Tell me everything. Let's be as we were before. No more secrets!"
