"Only the dog," replied the rough tones of a man. He was always forgetting that his tummy was fifty-four years old. There could not, he decided, possibly be two girls so much alike. Laying these carefully aside, he restored the drawer to its place. Many little things had contributed to that decision. “Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. Ten days should see you on your feet.
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