He did not at once see her, and she stood hesitating, till Daisy, who
was clinging to her cousin's arm, turned swiftly round and called her.
"Muriel, dear, where are you? Why are you hiding yourself? See, Blake!
Here is Muriel Roscoe! You knew we were living together?"
He saw her then, and came across to her, with both hands outstretched.
"Forgive me, Miss Roscoe," he said, with his pleasant smile. "You know
how glad I am to meet you again."
He looked down at her with eyes full of frank and friendly sympathy,
and the grasp of his hands was such that she felt it for long after.
It warmed her through and through, but she could not speak just then,
and with ready understanding he turned back to Daisy.
"Dr. Ratcliffe told me you had sent him to fetch me from the station,"
he said. "I am immensely grateful to you and to him."
Daisy was greeting the doctor with much animation and a hint of
mischief.
"I knew you would come," she laughed. "You never trust me to take care
of myself, do you?"
He brushed some flakes of snow from her dress. "Events prove me to be
justified," he remarked dryly. "Since Will has put you in my care, I
labour under a twofold responsibility. What possessed you to go out in
that murderous north-easter?"
He frowned at her heavily, his black brows meeting, but
notwithstanding her avowal of a few minutes before, Daisy only
grimaced in return.
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