"
Mrs. Toland did not speak for a few moments, then she said:
"Julie, Jim's like a son of my own to me. You'll forgive a fussy old
woman, who loves her children, if she talks frankly to you? Don't throw
away all the future, dear. Not to-day--not to-morrow, perhaps, but some
time, when you can, forgive him! He's changed; he's not what he used to
be--"
Tears were in Julia's eyes now; she slipped to her knees beside Mrs.
Toland's chair, and they cried a little together.
"I came to see him," whispered Julia. "Where is he?"
"He came in about fifteen minutes ago. He's packing. You know his
room--"
Julia mounted the stairs slowly, noiselessly. It was quite dark now
throughout the airy, fragrant big halls, but a crack of light came from
under Jim's door.
She stood outside for a few long minutes, thrilling like a bride with
the realization that she had the right to enter here; where Jim was, was
her sanctuary against the world and its storms.
She knocked, and Jim shouted "Come in!" Julia opened the door and faced
him across a room full of the disorder of packing. Jim was in his shirt
sleeves, his hair rumpled and wild.
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