I’ll wait my whole life!” He cried. Someone bounded up the stairs, which groaned from the strain, unmistakably Mike. To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. She listened with dumb fear in her eyes. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Martha begged. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story.
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