"You do not know how eccentric he is," she explained, naturally
misunderstanding my astonishment. She took a letter from her bosom and
handed it to me. I read:
"DEAR MADAM: It was yours to do with as you pleased. If you ever find
yourself in the mood to visit, Gull House is open to you, provided you
bring no maid. I will not have female servants about.
"Yours truly,
"HOWARD FORRESTER."
"You will consent now, will you not?" she asked, as I lifted my eyes from
this characteristic note.
I saw that her peace of mind was at stake. "Yes--I consent."
She gave a great sigh as at the laying down of a heavy burden. "Thank you,"
was all she said, but she put a world of meaning into the words. She took
the first homeward turning. We were nearly at the house before I found
words that would pave the way toward expressing my thoughts--my longings
and hopes.
"You say you have forgiven me," said I. "Then we can be--friends?"
She was silent, and I took her somber expression to mean that she feared I
was hiding some subtlety.
"I mean just what I say, Anita," I hastened to explain. "Friends--simply
friends." And my manner fitted my words.
She looked strangely at me. "You would be content with that?" she asked.
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