This wasn't a time to be seen. The silence
assuring, she again shut her eyes very tight and the palms of her
hands, uplifted, were pressed together.
"Please, dear God, I just want to thank you," she began. "It's awful
sudden and unexpected having a day like this, and I don't guess
to-morrow will be much, not a turkey Christmas or anything like that,
but to-day is grand. I'd say more, but some one is coming. Amen." And
with a scramble she was on her feet, the stool behind her, as Van
Landing came in the room.
The ride to the office through crowded streets was breathlessly
thrilling, and during it Carmencita did not speak. At the window of
the taxi she pressed her face so closely that the glass had
continually to be wiped lest the cloud made by her breath prevent her
seeing clearly; and, watching her, Van Landing smiled. What an odd,
elfish, wistful little face it was--keen, alert, intelligent, it
reflected every emotion that filled her, and her emotions were many.
In her long, ill-fitting coat and straw hat, in the worn shoes and
darned gloves, she was a study that puzzled and perplexed, and at
thought of her future he frowned.
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