He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. That’s one thing clear. I don’t play anything. I am used, you understand, to guard my secret. ’ ‘Why not?’ Gerald asked straightly. This was in Texas. He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment.
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