CHAPTER XXXVII
CONTAINS ELMA'S STORY
BEFORE me stood my love, a slim, tragic, rather wan figure in a heavy dark travelling-coat and felt toque, her sweet lips parted and a look of bewildered amazement upon her countenance as I burst in so suddenly upon her.
In silence I grasped her tiny black-gloved hand, and then, also in silence, raised it passionately to my eager lips. Her soft dark eyes — those eyes that spoke although she was mute — met mine, and in them was a look that I had never seen there before — a look which as plainly as any words told me that my wild, fevered passion was reciprocated.
She gazed beyond into the room where the others had assembled, and then looked at me inquiringly, whereupon I led her forward to where they were, and Muriel fell upon her and kissed her with tears streaming from her eyes.
"I prepared this surprise for you, Mr. Gregg," Muriel said, laughing through her tears of joy. "Olinto learnt that she was on her way to London, and I sent him to meet her. The Princess has managed magnificently, has she not?"
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