Their future would be glorious; he saw it in their eyes; he saw it in the beauty of their young heads. ” “Of course,” he said, reaching out his hand tentatively for his hat, “I could go away even now. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. “John,” she declared, “I must eat or die. ‘What did you do with the portrait then? Not that I suppose it is much use any longer. ” The men at the reporter’s table lifted their eyebrows, smiled faintly, and leaned back to watch how she took her scolding. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. I shall take to him as nat'ral as if he were my own flesh and blood afore long. Her gratitude swelled within her. Then she would write and tell her father what she had done, and put their relationship on a new footing.
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