She could affect to disregard the gray eyes that followed her
with such magnetized content about the living room, but beneath
her cool self-containment she knew the joyous heart in her was
strangely buoyant. He loved her, and she had a right to let
herself love him. This was enough for the present.
"They're so plumb glad to see y'u they can't let y'u alone,"
laughed Bannister at the sound of a knock on the door that was
about the fifth in as many minutes.
This time it proved to be Nora, come to find out what her
mistress would like for supper. Helen turned to the invalid.
"What would you like, Mr. Bannister?"
"I should like a porterhouse with mushrooms," he announced
promptly.
"You can't have it. You know what the doctor said." Very
peremptorily she smiled this at him.
"He's an old granny, Miss Messiter."
"You may have an egg on toast."
"Make it two," he pleaded. "Excitement's just like caviar to the
appetite, and seeing y'u safe--"
"Very well--two," she conceded.
They ate supper together in a renewal of the pleasant intimacy so
delightful to both. He lay on the lounge, propped up with sofa
cushions, the while he watched her deft fingers butter the toast
and prepare his egg.
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