the widow's eyes followed him. "he is a dear boy," she said, with a motherly glance at the softly closing door.
then her look changed and she leaned forward and touched the bowl of forget-me-nots with lightest finger-tip.
"mine?" she said archly.
"if you would like them," said the millionaire graciously.
"naughty man!" she shook the finger at him and then pointed it at the forget-me-nots.
"who sent them to you?" her chin tilted the question.
he regarded it gravely. "a woman sent them," he said.
she nodded and the little jets dingled at him.
"this woman?" she placed the finger on her chest and looked at him reproachfully.
[pg 177]
the millionaire's look broke in startled confusion. he glanced swiftly at the flowers. "why—yes—of course!... i ought to have thanked you.... but—i have not been well, you know." he smiled whimsically.
she motioned it aside. "i don't mind being thanked—so long as you got them!" her eyes travelled about the room. "they are the only ones you have!" she said reflectively.
the millionaire's glance followed hers.
"there were—others," he said vaguely.
"but you have not kept them!" she leaned forward.
"no." he admitted it.
"these are the only ones—" she paused, looking at them pensively. "you don't know how happy you make me!" she said—and sighed it away.
"i am glad to have pleased you," responded the millionaire feebly.
"you don't know—" she touched the flowers as if they were something precious that must not be disturbed. "you—don't know how happy—you make me!"
the millionaire glanced uneasily about.
[pg 178]
the door opened and julian flashed in. "i say! i couldn't find your bag, you know!"
"never mind!" she was sweet with it. "perhaps i didn't bring it, after all."
"you don't think it is possibly—in your chair," he suggested, smiling a little.
he had come over and was standing quite close to her.
she glanced at him deprecatingly. "how clever in you, julian!"
her hand groped in the chair for the bag and found it—and she held it out, laughing at her mistake.
the two men smiled.
"so stupid—in me!" she took out a tiny handkerchief and shook it and the faintest scent of violets flew about the room.
the door opened. it was miss canfield, with a glass of water on a small round tray. she came across to the millionaire. "it is medicine time," she said quietly.
the millionaire drank it off and returned the glass to the tray and thanked her.
she looked down at him. "is there anything else—you would like?" there was a clear, faint color in her cheeks, like a rose-leaf.
[pg 179]
the widow's eye rested on it.
"nothing, thank you," said medfield.
"you have sat up a little longer than the doctor said— you must not get too tired."
she left the room, carrying the little tray lightly before her, moving with noiseless step.
three pairs of eyes watched her from the room.
"they take good care of you, don't they?" said mrs. cawein patronizingly. her eyes were still reflectively on the door.
"the best of care!" responded medfield.
"well—" she sighed brightly and shook the handkerchief. "i think i was told to go?" she nodded archly. "yes—she told me!— i feel sure of it!"
she got up. "you must get well fast!" her hand touched his lightly and whisked away, and the violet scent was wafted about him.
she moved toward the door, drawing julian into her wake.
herman medfield's eyes watched them. his lips grew a little compressed. "you have forgotten your hat, julian," he said sharply.
[pg 180]
the boy glanced back over his shoulder and flashed a smile at him. "i'm seeing mrs. cawein to her car. i'll be back in a minute, sir——"
she murmured deprecation as they went. "you really—do not need to come with me, julian."
"but i want to," said the young man. he shifted his feet quickly and caught step with her as she plumed along beside him.
"your father's looking very well!" she said.
"isn't he!" the reply was absent.
she glanced at him sharply. "you must come and see me—i have missed you!"
his eye went past her to the car that was waiting. "it is very kind in you," he murmured.
she tripped a little on the step and he caught her arm to save her.
she glowed to him. "be sure to come," she said softly. "we must take up old times."
julian looked at her and smiled ever so faintly.
he opened the door of the car and put her in and bowed ceremoniously and closed the[pg 181] door. she nodded brightly through the window.... the car rolled away.
he stood looking after it, smiling with a little amusement. then he ran lightly up the steps.
the long corridor lighted by a great window stretched before him, and a figure at the end was outlined against it—a slender figure that carried itself very light and straight. she was walking from him, her face toward the window, and the white uniform and the cap glowed softly.... the reddish hair under the cap caught little glints of light. he watched till the figure disappeared in the distance. then he turned to the door of suite a.
the light of the reddish, shining hair was still in his face as he came in.
medfield grunted and stirred a little in his chair. he glanced at the absorbed face.
"you find her attractive?" he said dryly.
the young man stared at him. he had forgotten julia cawein and her car; he had forgotten everything except the window of the long lighted hall and the girl's head lifted against it.
[pg 182]
"i think she is charming!" he cried.
"don't you?" he added after a little, uncomfortable pause.
"no," said his father shortly.
"what is the matter with her?" asked the boy. he was watching his father's face.
"nothing is the matter if you don't happen to see it."
"i don't!"
the man was silent a minute. "sherwood cawein died of a broken heart," he said at last.
the boy stared. then the look in his face broke and danced. "i was not thinking of mrs. cawein," he said quietly.
"you were not speaking of julia cawein?" his father sat up, his hands on the arms of his chair, and looked at him.
"no, i was not thinking of mrs. cawein. i'll tell you some day, father, what i was thinking of. but—" he looked at him straight. "i'd like you to trust me a little if you will, please."
