"This is wonderful--for me," King began, in the hushed tone befitting
such a place--and the tone which suited his feelings as well. "I have
thought of you a million times in these months and longed to know just
how you were looking. Now that I see for myself my mind is a bit
easier--and yet--I'm somehow more anxious about you than ever."
"There's no reason why you should be anxious about me, Mr. King," she
answered, her eyes releasing themselves from his in spite of his effort
to hold them. "I'm doing very well, and--quite enjoying my work. How
about yourself? I hardly need to ask."
"Oh, I'm coming on finely, thank you. I've plunged into my work with all
the zest I ever had. Only one thing has bothered me: I seemed unable to
get out of the habit of watching the mails. And they have been mighty
disappointing."
"You surely couldn't expect," she said, smiling a little, "that once you
were well again you should be pampered with frequent letters."
"I certainly haven't been pampered. One letter in all this time--"
"Book agents haven't much time for writing letters. And surely engineers
must be busy people."
He was silent for a minute, studying her. She seemed, in spite of her
youth and beauty, wonderfully self-reliant. Again, as in the room at the
hospital, her quiet poise of manner struck him. And though she was once
more dressed in the plainest and least costly of attire--as well as he
could judge--he knew that he should be entirely willing to take her
anywhere where he was known, with no mental apologies for her
appearance.
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