"Hester!" he kept repeating. "Hester!"
"To think you knew me, Gerald!"
"Know you! I'd know you blindfolded. And how--I--You're beautiful,
Hester! I think you've grown five years younger."
"You've got on, Gerald. You look it."
"Yes; I'm general manager now at Finley's."
"I'm so glad. Married?"
"Not while there's a Hester Bevins on earth."
She started at her own name.
"How do you know I'm not married?"
"I--I know--" he said, reddening up.
"Isn't there some place we can talk, Gerald? I've thirty minutes before
my friends call for me."
"'Thirty minutes?'"
"Your rooms? Haven't you rooms or a room where we could go and sit
down?"
"Why--why, no, Hester," he said, still red. "I'd rather you didn't
go there. But here. Let's stop in at the St. James Hotel. There's a
parlor."
To her surprise, she felt herself color up and was pleasantly conscious
of her finger tips.
"You darling!" She smiled up at him.
They were seated presently in the unaired plush-and-cherry,
Nottingham-and-Axminster parlor of a small-town hotel.
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