He seemed drawn as if by invisible
wires. He put a shaking hand on hers and crushed her gauntleted fingers. And
Lucy, in the current now of her woman's need to be placated if not obeyed,
pressed her small hand to his. How strange to what lengths a little submission
to her feeling had carried her! Every spoken word, every movement, seemed to
exact more from her. She did not know herself.
"Lin! . . . Promise not to--speak to Dad!"
"No." His voice rang.
"Don't give me away--don't tell my Dad!"
"What?" he queried, incredulously.
Lucy did not understand what. But his amazed voice, his wide-open eyes of
bewilderment, seemed to aid her into piercing the maze of her own mind. A
hundred thoughts whirled together, and all around them was wrapped the warm,
strong feeling of his hand on hers. What did she mean that he would tell her
father? There seemed to be a deep, hidden self in her. Up out of these depths
came a whisper, like a ray of light, and it said to her that there was more
hope for Lin Slone than he had ever had in one of his wildest dreams.
Pages:
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259