Will you promise to write
regularly?"
She paused on the bottom step, where she was just on a level with the
straightforward dark eyes, half boy's, half man's, which met hers with
the clear look of good comradeship. There was no sentimentality in the
gaze, but undeniably strong liking and respect. She answered in Jeff's
own spirit:
"I promise. I really shouldn't know how to do without hearing about your
plans and the things that happen to you. I'm not a very good
letter-writer, but I'll try to tell you things that will interest you."
"Good! I'm no flowery expert myself, but I fancy we can write as we
talk, and that's enough for me. Good-night! Happy dreams."
"Good-night!" she responded, and went on up-stairs, turning to wave at
Jeff from the landing, as he stood in the doorway, preparing to go out
to the tents where he and Just, Doctor Forester, Frederic and Lanse were
spending these dry June nights.
Evelyn went on to the odd old bedroom under the gable, where she and
Lucy were quartered together. She found Lucy lying so still that she
thought her asleep, and so made ready for bed with speed and quiet,
remembering that Lucy had been first to come in, and imagining her tired
with the day's sports.
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