"Love must always mean happiness--for the one who
is loved."
She leaned hack in the corner of the sofa to which he had led her,
her eyes dry now but still very soft and sweet. He sat by her side,
fingering some of the things in her work basket. Once she held out
her hand and seemed to find comfort in his clasp. He raised her
fingers to his lips without any protest from her. She looked at
him with a little smile.
"You know, I'm not at all an Ibsen heroine," she declared. "I can't
see my way like those wonderful emancipated women."
"Yet," he said thoughtfully, "the way to the simple things is so
clear."
Confidences were at an end for a time, broken up by the entrance of
Nora and Helen, and some young men from the Depot, who had looked
in for a game of billiards. Lessingham rose to leave as soon as the
latter had returned to their game. His tone and manner now were
completely changed. He seemed ill at ease and unhappy.
"I am going to have a day's fishing to-morrow," he told Philippa,
"but I must admit that I have very little faith in this man Oates.
They all tell me that your husband has any number of charts of the
coast. Do you think I could borrow one?"
"Why, of course," she replied, "if we can find it."
She took him over to her husband's desk, opened such of the drawers
as were not locked, and searched amongst their contents ruthlessly.
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