Chapter 5

“This is—home,” said Jim softly. “It’s lovelier than I ever dreamed of its being. And it’s your creation, Margaret.” Margaret did not answer. She was looking at Jim, as he gazed into the fire—his black hair, his smiling eyes, his whimsical face. She was recalling all his friendly looks and jests and quips and subtle compliments. It was all she could ever have of him. For just this half hour she would give herself up to enchantment. The future was Isabel’s—but this half hour was hers. She shut her eyes and prayed—“H…