"Yes, I can see you.
That's because I have been here longer and am more used to the
darkness. I think I've been here about a year." He felt her
shudder. "You don't know how glad I am to see you."
"No gladder than I am to feel you," he answered gayly. "It's
worth the price of admission to find you here, girl o'mine."
He had forgotten the pretense that still lay between them, so far
as words went when they had last parted. Nor did it yet occur to
him that he had swept aside the convention of her being a boy.
But she was vividly aware of it, and aware, too, of the demand
his last words had made for a recognition of the relationship
that existed in feeling between them.
"I knew you knew I was a girl," she murmured.
"You knew more than that," he challenged joyfully.
But, in woman's way, she ignored his frontal attack. He was going
at too impetuous a speed for her reluctance. "How long have you
known that I wasn't a boy--not from the first, surely?"
"I don't know why I didn't, but I didn't. I was sure locoed," he
confessed. "It was when you came out dressed as a gypsy that I
knew. That explained to me a heap of things I never had
understood before about you.
Pages:
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211