Some day--
Sophie looked at him. For the moment his own gaze had wandered from her
to the fire, his mind yielding tentatively to rose-tinted visions.
"A penny for your thoughts," she said lightly.
"I was thinking of you," he answered truthfully.
He looked up as he spoke and his heart leaped at the faint flush that
rose slowly over Sophie's face. Indeed all the high resolve that had
been shaping in his soul for the past ten minutes came near going by the
board. It would have been so easy to imprison the hand that lay along
the chair-arm next his own, to utter words that trembled on his tongue,
to break through the ice that Sophie used as a shield--for the instant
he felt sure of that--and dare what fires burned beneath.
While he stood, poised as it were, upon the tip-toe of indecision, Carr
and Tommy Ashe came back.
Afterward, on his way home, Thompson wondered at the swift challenging
glance Tommy shot at Sophie in that moment. As if Tommy detected some
tensity of feeling that he resented.
CHAPTER XXII
SUNDRY REFLECTIONS
That winter and the summer which followed, and the period which carried
him into the spring of 1916, was materially a triumphal procession for
Wes Thompson.
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