"
And, of course, just then Dallas had to open the door and step
into the room. He was covered with dirt and he had a hatchet in
his hand.
"A rope!" he demanded, without paying any attention to us and
diving into corners of the room. "Good heavens, isn't there a
rope in this confounded house!"
He turned and rushed out, without any explanation, and left us
staring at the door.
"Bother the rope!" I found myself forced to look into two earnest
eyes. "Kit, were you VERY angry when I kissed you that night on
the roof?"
"Very," I maintained stoutly.
"Then prepare yourself for another attack of rage!" he said. And
Betty opened the door.
She had on a fetching pale blue dressing gown, and one braid of
her yellow hair was pulled carelessly over her shoulder. When she
saw me on my knees beside the bed (oh, yes, I forgot to say that,
quite unconsciously, I had slid into that position) she stopped
short, just inside the door, and put her hand to her throat. She
stood for quite a perceptible time looking at us, and I tried to
rise. But Tom shamelessly put his arm around my shoulders and
held me beside him. Then Betty took a step back and steadied
herself by the door frame. She had really cared, I knew then, but
I was too excited to be sorry for her.
"I--I beg your pardon for coming in," she said nervously.
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