““Where had he been all the two years?” demanded Christie, the spirit of the coming woman blazing in her eyes. “I wouldn’t have let him kiss me if he had stayed away all that time, and left me alone.” “Oh, he had been sick, and robbed by a highwayman, and almost killed, and I don’t know what all had happened. He couldn’t help it. And he was rich; he had found a place in the gold mine that nobody knew about, and it had lots of gold. They were married, he and Jennie, and they sent Ben to school, and he had no end of a good time and all the toast and eggs he wanted.” “It is only in books that such things happen,” said Christie, turning cynical, though there was a bit of wistfulness in her voice. “Nobody ever comes knocking at our door with some wonderful news. I wish there would, but I don’t expect it.””
