“Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. Her eyelids fluttered with recognition, and she cried out softly. Still, his robust frame enabled him to hold out. While you live in my house you must follow my ideas. " "Ah.
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