His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. "Come! I see the storm has blown over," cried Winifred, brightening up. Lord knew why he had any interest in an impertinent girl who would certainly have spit him with that dagger! He reached into his pocket and brought it out, examining it in the increasing light as he slowly made his way back up the terrace. "Do you call this frantic glee happiness?" "It's all the happiness I have known for years," returned the widow, becoming suddenly calm, "and it's short-lived enough, as you perceive. “You’re just a boy! You grow moody and spellbound, John, and the next moment you are ecstatic.
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