and laboriously climbed over the bulging tent on the running-board.
Sheilah stood speechless for a moment, trying to make the jumble of incoherent facts her eyes were telegraphing so rapidly to her brain, add up and make sense—add up and make Felix. It was Felix's voice, his stature, his stoop, even his overcoat—the light one that used to belong to Gretchen's husband, but here, at Avidon's, how was it possible? And the car—the funny little car? However, no one but Felix limped like that, carried just that brand of the war.
Before he had taken a dozen steps she exclaimed in a voice that trembled, 'Why, I think it's somebody I know,' and went down the steps.
Felix saw her coming, and halted. They met half-way between the car and verandah.
'Why, Felix!'
'Hello!' He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her quickly on the cheek (though perhaps he oughtn't to have, right out in front of the hotel). 'Thought I'd surprise you.'
'I can't believe it's you!'
'It is.'
'But how in the world?'
'Come and see your new car!'
'Mine?'
The group on the verandah watched them return
