I want him to feel that we just
love him, and that--that--we're just glad for him, and--and nothing in
the world else matters--to anybody. I'm so----"
There was a little catch of breath. The words she would have spoken
died upon her lips. She reeled. Every vestige of color left her
pretty face, and her eyes half closed. Just for one weak instant her
hands groped behind her for the chair. Then, the next, Bud was at her
side, and one strong arm was supporting her.
"Don't, Nan!" he cried, in his heavy cumbersome way. And the sound of
his deep voice alone served to ward off the encroachment of that final
weakness which, in spite of all her courage, the girl was at last
compelled to yield to.
Bud drew her to him, and one hand smoothed her pretty brown hair with
rough tenderness. For a moment her head rested against his broad
bosom. Then a deep sigh came, and Nan looked up, smiling into the
steady gray eyes gazing down at her, through a mist of welling tears.
"My dear--dear old Daddy," she murmured, as the tears finally
overflowed and slowly rolled down her cheeks.
Pages:
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273