An impetuous hand wrenched open the
door, and she and Jerry were face to face.
She never recalled afterwards crossing the threshold of his little abode.
She was numbed and weary in mind and body. But she found herself at
length seated before a bright fire, with a cup of steaming tea in her
hand, and Jerry hovering about her in high delight; and the comfort of
his welcome revived her at length to an active realization of her
surroundings.
Clearly the adventure, mad, lawless as it undoubtedly was, was nothing
but a picnic to him. He was enjoying himself immensely without a thought
of any possible consequences, and it was plain that this was the attitude
in which he expected her to regard the matter.
With an effort she responded to his mood, but she could not shake off the
burden of doubt and foreboding that oppressed her. She felt as if the
long, bitter journey had in some fashion aged her. Jerry's gaiety was as
the prattle of a child to her now. They had been children together till
that day, but she felt that they could never be so again. Never before
had she stopped in her headlong course to look ahead, to count the cost!
Now, for the first time, misgivings arose within her upon Jerry's score.
What if this boy who had lent himself so lightly, so absolutely freely,
to her scheme for deliverance, were made in any way to suffer for his
reckless generosity? For this it had been with him--and this only--as she
well knew.
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