"Damn her," he said, when the dust of the train absorbed her. "Does
she think she's the only woman in the world?"
After supper that evening Susan called David over to sit on the edge of
her blanket. This was a rare favor. He came hurrying, all alight with
smiles, cast himself down beside her and twined his fingers in her warm
grasp. She answered his hungry glance with a sidelong look, glowingly
tender, and David drew the hand against his cheek. Nobody was near
except Daddy John and Courant, smoking pipes on the other side of the
fire.
"Do you love me?" he whispered, that lover's text for every sermon
which the unloving find so irksome to answer, almost to bear.
But now she smiled and whispered,
"Of course, silly David."
"Ah, Susan, you're awakening," he breathed in a shaken undertone.
She again let the soft look touch his face, sweet as a caress. From
the other side of the fire Courant saw it, and through the film of pipe
smoke, watched. David thought no one was looking, leaned nearer, and
kissed her cheek. She gave a furtive glance at the man opposite, saw
the watching eyes, and with a quick breath like a runner, turned her
face to her lover and let him kiss her lips.
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