"I wonder--" he began, and then checked the words.
"Don't you worry about Alix," said Flora. "She's nobody's fool."
"I wasn't thinking of Alix just then," said Charlie.
II
The following morning, Courtney went, as was his custom, to the
postoffice. He had arranged for a lock-box there. His letters were
not brought up to the Tavern by old Jim House, the handy-man.
The day was bright and clear and cold; the gale had died in the
early morning hours. Alix Crown's big automobile was standing in
front of the post-office, the engine running. Catching sight of it
as he left the Tavern porch, he hastened his steps. He was a good
two hundred yards away and feared she would be off before he could
come up with her. As he drew near, he saw the lanky chauffeur standing
in front of the drug store, chatting with one of the villagers.
Alix was in the post-office. As he passed the car, he slackened
his pace and glanced over his shoulder into the tonneau. The side
curtains were down. A low growl greeted him. He hastened on.
She was at the registry window.
"Hello!" he exclaimed, extending his hand and searching her face
as he did so for signs of a sleepless night.
"Good morning," she responded cheerily. There was nothing in her
voice, her eyes or her manner to indicate an even remotely disturbed
state of mind. Her gaze met his serenely; the colour did not rush
to her cheeks as he had fondly expected, nor did her eyes waver
under the eager, intense gleam in his.
Pages:
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161