But the next instant she stood smiling at us from the
doorway.
She was glad to see us, too. From Lad's ecstatic embrace she came into
mine, and I heard her eager whisper--"I'm so glad to get back to _you!_"
The Skeptic and the Philosopher wrung her hand until I know her little
fingers ached, and they stared at her, the one like a brother, the other
like--well, she must have seen for herself. No, they were not rivals.
The Philosopher had seen the Skeptic's case, I think, from the first,
and being not only a philosopher but a man, and the Skeptic's best
friend, had never allowed himself to enter the race at all. I had
detected a wistful light in his eyes now and then, and had my own notion
of what might have happened if he had let it, but--there was only a very
warm brotherliness in the greeting he gave the Gay Lady, and she looked
back into his eyes too frankly for me to think he had ever let her see
anything else.
She sat down at the table with us for a little, while we finished, and
you should have seen the difference in the look of the room.
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