He hardly recognized her face or her voice, but what she said
proclaimed her to be Allie. She enveloped him. Her arms, strong,
convulsive, clasped him. Up came her face, white, gleaming, joyous,
strange to Neale, but he knew somehow that it was held up to be
kissed. Dazedly he kissed her--felt cool sweet lips touch his lips
again and then again.
"Allie! ... I--I hardly knew you!" was his greeting. Now he was
holding her, and he felt her press her head closely to his breast,
felt the intensity of what must have been her need of physical
contact to make sure he was here in the flesh. And as he held her,
looking down upon her, he recognized the little head and the dull
gold and ripple of chestnut hair. Yes--it was Allie. But this new
Allie was taller--up to his shoulder--and lithe and full-bosomed and
strong. This was not the frail girl he had left.
"I thought--you'd--never, never come," she murmured, clinging to
him.
"It was--pretty long," he replied, unsteadily. "But I've come....
And I'm very glad to see you."
"You didn't know me," she said, shyly. "You looked--it."
"Well, no wonder. I left a thin, pale little girl, all eyes--and
what do I find? ... Let me look at you."
She drew back and stood before him, shy and modest, but without a
trace of embarrassment, surely the sweetest and loveliest girl he
had ever beheld.
Pages:
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111