"
"Splendid!" cried Cynthia. "Do come, Mary!"
Mary shook her head. "No; you go, you two," she said. "I'm tired, and I
want to think." She passed her hand across her eyes. She seemed to wipe
away the mists of sleep. Her face suddenly grew animated and exultant.
"No, I don't want to think! I know!" she exclaimed emphatically.
"Mary dear, are you still asleep? Are you talking in your sleep?"
"The keyword! It came to me, somehow, in my sleep. The keyword--Morocco!"
"What the deuce has Morocco--" Captain Alec began, with justifiable
impatience.
"Ah, you never heard that, and, dear Captain Alec, you wouldn't have
understood it if you had. You thought he was reciting poems. What he was
really doing--"
"Look here, Doctor Mary, I've just been accepted by Cynthia, and I'm
going to take her to my mother and father. Can you get your mind on to
that?" He looked at her curiously, not at all understanding her
excitement, perhaps resenting the obvious fact that his Cynthia's
happiness was not foremost in her friend's mind.
With a great effort Mary brought herself down to the earth--to the earth
of romantic love from the heaven of professional triumph.
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