Don't even stop to
thank me--you hurry along."
Tom needed no urging. He sped from the office, signaled a cab and gave the
driver the paper. "Let that horse move his legs," he ordered.
"Yes, sir."
They pulled up presently before a big brownstone house.
"Tell Miss Landis that Captain Burns is calling," he told the servant.
"Yes, Captain. Will you come this way, sir?" He was ushered into a parlor,
where he waited nervously; then he heard footsteps on the stairs.
"Tom--Tom Burns!" Marjorie bounded into the room.
"Marjorie!"
They stood looking at each other, speechless. She was the first to collect
herself. "I'm so glad you've come," she said. "I've wondered and wondered
about you."
"But you knew I'd come if I could, didn't you?"
"I thought so--I hoped so."
"For one thing, I have a horse and a handkerchief of yours."
"Star! Is he still alive? Oh, tell me about it. But, no--tell me about
yourself first."
That evening, long after dinner, they finished their stories. Marjorie had
come North six months before; the Beechams had never suspected her of
having given him her horse. "The people," she said, "went mad scurrying
about the country after you. I don't know what they would have done if they
had suspected me.
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