Page:The Redemption of Anthony (1911).djvu/102

 the freshness of her—knew an abandon of feeling that he'd never known before.

There was a movement from behind the piano, and he turned and faced Mrs. Martin. Not the Mrs. Martin who thirty minutes before had thrown herself down there, but an old, whitefaced, haggard Mrs. Martin, whose dry lips refused to speak. She came slowly and stood beside Priscilla, looking down at her; then she looked at the man, who stood waiting.

"You love her?" she said simply.

"Yes," he answered; "I love her."

Mrs. Martin leaned over and kissed the sleeping girl, then she went out of the room, swiftly, as one struck with age.