Sure of foot, noiseless, he made the veranda and paused at the side of one of the screened windows. "Leave us, Mrs. It isn’t pretty, but we’re made so. The air was thick with feelings. “It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends. If they hadn't sent for me, you'd have pegged out before morning. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband.
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