Surely Juliet would not be spoiled by the sight of a visitor leaving
the house. But there was no one leaving. Indeed, I saw the prospect
of a fresh arrival--Isabel Chisholm was coming up the street in a
brand new costume and hat to match. Her fringe was curled to
perfection. A tiny veil was arranged coquettishly just above her
nose. Flesh and blood could not stand this. Downstairs I darted,
without even waiting for a look in the glass. Into the drawing-room I
bounced, and there, in his six feet two of comely manliness, stood
Jack, my Jack, more bronzed and handsome and loveable than ever. He
whom I had been mourning for by turns as dead and faithless, but whom
I now knew was neither; for he came towards me with both hands
outstretched, and he held mine in such a loving clasp, and he looked
at me with eyes which I knew were reading just such another tale as
that written on his own face.