very kindly and gently in both of his cold ones.
"You have made my Christmas the very happiest one in my life, Lucy," he said solemnly.
I glanced up surprised. I wish I could write down how his eyes looked. I can't. I only know I was suddenly afraid. I drew my hand away and laughed, for no reason. I was actually embarrassed before Dr. Maynard!
"I guess I must go," I said nervously. The sun had set and the glow had all gone out of the room.
Dr. Maynard didn't answer me. He just stood there like a stone man. Oh, I think that silences are the most awfully eloquent things in the world!
"It's getting dark," I added desperately.
Without a word Dr. Maynard went to the library door and opened it. I followed. Then to the front door and opened that. He stood holding it back, still not speaking (but I could feel his gaze burning into me) and I sped past him out into the dusk, like a wild bird out of a cage.
I don't know how I got home. I half ran, half stumbled along the frozen road. My heart was thumping, and though I wasn't a bit cold (my cheeks fairly burned) my teeth chattered as if I were chilled through. When I reached the house there was a funny, choking feeling in my throat, and I dashed up to my room and locked myself in.
| · | · | · | · | · | · | · |
All this last took place not eight hours ago and it is very late Christmas night.
When I write down what has happened it seems absurd to be excited. But when I think of it—when I close my eyes, see his gaze, hear his voice, I can't
