She quickly withdrew her gaze and turned to the little window where
Mrs. Pollock was making out her receipt for a registered package.
She felt that she was cowardly, and the thought made her furious.
"Will it go out today, Mrs. Pollock?" she asked.
"This afternoon," replied the postmaster's wife and assistant.
"Wasn't that a dreadful wind last night, Alix? I thought of you.
You must have been frightened."
"I slept like a log through all of it," said Alix. "I love the
wild night wind. It makes me feel so nice and comfy in bed. I was
awfully tired last night. Thanks." Then turning to Courtney: "Sorry
you will not go with me. I'll bear you in mind if I ever take a
trip to the Sahara. Good-bye."
"Will you be at home tonight?" he asked, holding the door open for
her to pass through.
"Yes," she replied composedly.
"I mean,--to me?"
"If you care to come," she said.
He did not accompany her to the car. The big grey-brown dog with
his paws on the back of the front seat, was eagerly watching her
approach.
She wore a long mole-skin coat and a smart little red turban. She
had never looked so alluring to the young man who waited in the
open door until the car started away.
"Close the door, please," called out Mrs. Pollock. "This isn't
July, you know."
"So she slept like a log, did she?" muttered Courtney as he turned
away from his lockbox with a letter.
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