Her eyes were closed, and on her face still lingered
that faint, sweet smile which he remembered so well.
* * * * *
The young man rose with a set face. He reached for his golf-bag.
"I call that a dirty trick," he said, "after you promised--" The Sage
waved him back to his seat.
"Have no fear! She had only fainted."
"You said she was cold."
"Wouldn't you be cold if you were lying in the snow?"
"And stiff."
"Mrs. Sturgis was stiff because the train-service was bad, it being the
holiday-season, and she had had to walk all the way from the junction,
a distance of eight miles. Sit down and allow me to proceed."
* * * * *
Tenderly, reverently Mortimer Sturgis picked her up and began to bear
her into the house. Half-way there, his foot slipped on a piece of ice
and he fell heavily, barking his shin and shooting his lovely burden
out on to the snow.
The fall brought her to. She opened her eyes.
"Mortimer, darling!" she said.
Mortimer had just been going to say something else, but he checked
himself.
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