” She smiled at him broadly and kissed his cheek. Immediately he grasped the fact that there was drama here, probably the old drama of the fugitive. ” “You are sure that he asked for me—not for Annabel?” “Certain,” Courtlaw answered. “Won’t you give me your address?” She shook her head. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. Ludicrously loud sounds streamed from the array of speakers. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. ‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor. I was once a disciple of Saint Peter myself, and speak from experience. I sent my check for ten thousand; and it has cost me six thousand to find you. " She smiled, and returned to the spinsters. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie.
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