“Yes; I remember the sweetish smell of chloroform and that’s the last I knew.”
“Well, never mind. You can hear all these details some other time.”
“After we’re married,—you _will_ marry me, won’t you, Elsie,—dearest! you,—you—haven’t married anybody else, have you?”
“No!” she cried, frightened at the grasp on her arm. But her assurance restored his poise.
“Forgive me, dear. I’m weak from being housed and tortured so long. Come, can we go away from this dreadful place?”
“Yes, we will. And I will marry you, of course. Haven’t I waited for you? But, we can’t get the money, Kim, it’s too late. Today’s my birthday, and the time is up.”
“Never mind, dear heart. I’ll make money enough for us. Don’t worry. I’ve finished my play since I’ve been here,—and it’s a corker! I had to work on it to keep from losing my mind. I almost did, anyway. But they let me have paper and pencil, and I finished the thing some time ago. Oh, Elsie, it has been the most unutterable hell!”
“Yes, dearest, but I’ll make a Heaven for you that will make you forget it all.”
“You shall, my beloved. I’ve forgotten it already! The sight of your dear face has blotted it all out.”
“You’re awfully thin, Kim, but otherwise you look just the same.”
“Good! I feared I’d be but a small remnant of my former beauty! Come on, girl, darling; let’s go home. Lord, I don’t know a thing that’s going on,—and I don’t much care. I’ve got you,—and some day I shall have a go at Whiting,—but I’m too happy now to tackle him. Is he about?”
“He is indeed! Very much about. Here comes Coley Coe.”
And then, at Elsie’s introduction, the two men shook hands.
“I’ve hunted for you long enough,”—said Coe,—“I’m right down glad to see you!”
“And I’m glad to see any one who was instrumental in bringing about my rescue!”
“Miss Powell did that,” Coe said; “she cleverly corralled a milkman and made him serve her ends!”
“But Coley did lots,—oh, lots!” Elsie cried, her eyes sparkling with appreciation. “You’ll adore him after you know him better, Kim! I do!”
Webb smiled happily at his lovely _fiancée_, and said, “I see I must marry you out of hand, to be sure of you! When can we pick up our broken threads?”
“Pretty soon,” Elsie promised him. “There’s no special hurry for a day or two,” she added, “for it’s just too late to get the fortune,—and that must go to Joe.”