Crane turned his back upon the younger man and busied himself wondrously
over the manipulation of a chair. A strange dread crept into Mortimer's
heart; it smothered him; he felt dizzy. Why did Allis look so happy--why
were there smiles on her lips when she must know there were ashes of
gloom in his soul? Why was she alone there with Crane? Was it but
another devilish trick of the misfortune that pursued him?
"Good afternoon, Miss" the words stuck in Mortimer's throat, and he
completed his greeting with a most dreadfullv formal bow.
The girl laughed outright; how droll it was to see a man trying to make
himself unhappy when there was nothing but happiness in the world.
Through the open window she could hear the birds singing, and through it
came the perfume of clover-buried fields; across the floor streamed
warm, bright sunlight from a blue sky in which was no cloud. And from
their lives, Mortimer's and her own, had been swept the dark cloud--and
here, in the midst of all this joy was her lover with a long, sad face,
trying to reproach her with a stiff, awkward bow.
Her laugh twirled Crane about like a top. He saw the odd situation;
there was something incongruous in Mortimer's stiff attitude.
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