A FOG IN SANTONE
preceding a big, softly treading man, finely dressed, who pauses a second before the curtains and then passes on. Presently comes the waiter with a message: “Mr. Rolfe says—”
“Tell Rolfe I’m engaged.”
“I don’t know why it is,” says Goodall, of Memphis, “but I don’t feel as bad as I did. An hour ago I wanted to die, but since I’ve met you, Miss Rosa, I’d like, so much, to live.”
The young woman whirls around the table, lays an arm behind his neck, and kisses him on the cheek.
“You must, dear boy,” she says. “I know what was the matter. It was this miserable foggy weather that has lowered your spirit and mine too—a little. But, look now!”
With a little spring she has drawn back the curtains. A window is in the wall
25
