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"Lou?" Erie flashed their visitor a look of gratitude. "It is good of you to come to him," she said. "He always looks forward to your visits, and grows quite fretful if you are late." She smiled and patted the father's hand. "The east wind's bad for the cough but tomorrow you'll be as good as ever, won't you, Daddy?" "Why I read it in Anson's book, 'Trigger-Finger Tim er Dead er Alive.' Oh, it's all hunky, I tell you.".
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"Gollies!" exulted Maurice. Then uncertainty in his tones, "A feller 'ud have to be a mighty good shot to do that though, Bill." Anson eyed him suspiciously, then turned to his mother. "I wish't you'd do our dinners up separate, Ma," he whined. Mr Lawrence's eyes were open. They looked straight up at her; tormented as he was, his pain had no influence over the composition of his feelings. It was a stare rather than a gaze: and in that stare was profound astonishment at the sight of her, likewise amazement at the sanity of a face, which, when he had last seen it, was deformed, as he had believed, by the madness his behaviour had wrought in her; but before all, and stealing into and illuminating the complicated emotions conveyed by his eyes, was the love which had ever beamed in them when he turned them upon her, a light not to be lessened or obscured by any conflict of passion. The golden head was bowed and when it was raised to him, he saw a deeper color in the cheeks, a softer glow in the eyes. "Come," she said softly, "we must be getting back.".
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