Then with a long look
at the portrait on the wall, and an exclamation which the other did not
hear, he left the room with a set, determined face.
......................
"Who told you? What brought you, Flood?" the girl asked, her chin in her
long, white hands, her head turned from the easel to him, a book in her
lap, the sun breaking through the leaves upon her hat, touching the
Titian hair with splendour.
"Fate brought me, and didn't tell me," he answered, with a whimsical
quirk of the mouth, and his trouble lurking behind the sea-deep eyes.
"Wouldn't you have come if you knew I was here?" she urged archly.
"Not for two thousand dollars," he answered, the look of trouble
deepening in his eyes, but his lips were smiling. He had a quaint sense
of humour, and at his last gasp would have noted the ridiculous thing.
And surely it was a droll malignity of Fate to bring him here to her
whom, in this moment of all moments in his life, he wished far away. Fate
meant to try him to the uttermost. This hurdle of trial was high indeed.
"Two thousand dollars--nothing less?" she inquired gaily. "You are too
specific for a real lover."
"Fate fixed the amount," he added drily. "Fate--you talk so much of
Fate," she replied gravely, and her eyes looked into the distance.
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