I knew you would be there, and I looked the room over, missing you at first, and feeling as if something were wanting to fire me up; then, when I found you, the inspiration came, and if I began to flag ever so little, I had only to look at your blue eyes and my blood was up again.' This was a great deal for Harold to say and he felt half frightened when he had said it; but Jerrie's answer was reassuring.
'Oh, I didn't know that.

I am so glad you told me.' They were close to the Tramp House now.

The walk from the station had been hot and dusty, and Jerry was tired, so she said to Harold: 'Let's go in a moment; it looks so cool in there.' So they went in, and Jerry sat down upon a bench, while Harold took a seat upon the table where Jerrie once had slept, with the shadow of death around her, and the carpet-bag for her covering.
'I suppose you had peals of applause and flowers by the bushel,' Harold said.
'Yes,' Jerry replied, 'applause enough, and flowers enough--twenty bouquets and baskets in all, including yours.

It was kind in you to send it.' She did not tell him of the wilted condition of his flowers, or that one of the faded roses was pressed between the lids of her Latin grammar.
'Billy sent up a heart of blue forget-me-nots,' she continued, 'and Tom a bunch of daisies on a standard of violets.

What a prig Tom is, and what a dandy Billy has grown to be, and he stammers worse than ever.' 'But he is one of the best-hearted fellows in the world;' Harold said, 'he has been very kind to me.' 'Yes, I know;' Jerry rejoined, quickly, 'he makes his father pay you big wages in the office and gives you a great many holidays; that is kind.
But, oh, Harold, how I hate it all--your being obliged to work for such a man as Peterkin.