A little crowd stood waiting on the wharf at Chatsworth as the vessel drew in to her moorings, and Edith was quick to detect Harold among them. He was a fine, handsome young man, well dressed, and supporting the shadow of a moustache. He raised his hat and smiled, and his eyes sparkled when Edith leaned over the taffrail and waved her handkerchief to him. A moment later she sprang ashore and hastened to meet him.
"Well, Harold, old boy, how do you do?" she cried briskly.
Sign in to unlock this title
Sign in to continue reading, it's free! As an unregistered user you can only read a little bit.
