Withers.
"Here it is," said Thane, catching sight of the drawing. He touched the
book-holder lightly on the arm, to turn her away from the sun. Her shadow
fell across the open page; their backs were to the wagon. So they stood
a full half-minute,--Thane seeing nothing, hearing his heart beat
preposterously in the silence.
"Why don't you praise my sign-posts?" asked Daphne nervously. "See my
beautiful distance,--one straight line!"
"I have changed my plans a little," said Thane. Daphne closed the book. "I
shall see you again in Boise. This is good-by--for three days. Take care of
yourself." He held out his hand. "I shall meet your train at Bliss."
"Bliss! Where is Bliss?"
"You never could remember, could you?" he smiled. The tone of his voice was
a flagrant caress. The color flew to Daphne's face. "Bliss," said he, "is
where I shall meet you again: remember that, will you?"
Daphne drew down her veil. The man returning from the ferry was in sight
at the top of the hill. Mr. Withers was alighting from Thane's wagon. She
turned her gray mask towards him, through which he could discern the soft
outline of her face, the color of her lips and cheeks, the darkness of her
eyes; their expression he could not see.
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