there nosing around that elderberry. Think he'll come back next week?
Not much. I know your kind," scornfully.

That bit into the lad's complacency.

"Of course, I care and of course, I'll come back," he protested, though a
moment before he had had not the slightest wish or purpose to see her
again, rather to the contrary.

"To see whether there is a scar?"

"To see you," he played up gallantly.

Her hard young face softened.

"Will you, honest, Ted Holiday? Will you come back?"

She put out her hand and touched his. Her eyes were suddenly wistful,
gentle, beseeching.

"Sure I'll come back. Why wouldn't I?" The touch of her hand, the new
softness, almost pathos of her mood touched him, appealed to the chivalry
always latent in a Holiday.

He heard her breath come quickly, saw her full bosom heave, felt the warm
pressure of her hand. He wanted to put his arm around her but he did not
follow the impulse. The code of Holiday "noblesse oblige" was operating.

"I wish I could believe that," Madeline sighed, looking down into the
water which whirled and eddied in white foam and splash over the rocks.