There was a reason why he would never forget Peter God's
eyes.
"Sometimes I thought they were blue, and sometimes gray," he said; and at
that she dropped his hands with a strange little cry, and stood a step
back from him, a joy which she made no effort to keep from him flaming in
her face.
It was a look which sent a sudden hopelessness through Curtis--a stinging
pang of jealousy. This night had set wild and tumultous emotions aflame
in his breast. He had come to Josephine McCloud like one in a dream. In
an hour he had placed her above all other women in the world, and in that
hour the little gods of fate had brought him to his knees in the worship
of a woman. The fact did not seem unreal to him. Here was the woman, and
he loved her. And his heart sank like a heavily weighted thing when he
saw the transfiguration of joy that came into her face when he said that
Peter God's eyes were not dark, but were sometimes blue and sometimes
gray.
"And this Peter God?" he said, straining to make his voice even. "What is
he to you?"
His question cut her like a knife. The wild color ebbed swiftly out of
her cheeks. Into her eyes swept a haunting fear which he was to see and
wonder at more than once. It was as if he had done something to frighten
her. "We--my father and I--are interested in him," she said. Her words
cost her a visible effort. He noticed a quick throbbing in her throat,
just above the filmy lace.
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