The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 116: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

102 pretend I am entirely glad, but I con- gratulate you both.” ~ “Thank you.” “T hope you won’t think me pre- sumptuous when I say that I shall con- tinue to think of you as I do now. I cannot change. Your preference for him does not lessen my regard. And if it should happen that you need me, you can always be sure I will be glad to’ be of service to you. You will accept that?” “Yes, of course.”’ She thanked him with her eyes. “I am sorry. But we can be just as good friends as we have been. It needn’t make any difference, need it?” “No. If you desire it so, things will be just the same.” But a close observer would not have been reassured by the expression of Osgood’s facé as he said it. His eyes did not meet hers. His thin lips were set close together. They had a de- termined, unpleasant look. The close observer would have been right. Osgood did not intend to let things remain just the same. The news he had just learned was disquieting, but it could have been one big degree worse. She had not said anything about marriage with Bennett. There was time yet. Until she and Bennett were married there was hope. CHAPTER VI. BEFORE THE COLONEL. MEANWHILE, Bennett was seeing the colonel. He had followed the orderly at a rapid pace. He hoped that he would not keep him long. Now that his mili- tary duties were over, he grudged every minute spent away from Edith. The distance to the colonel’s tent was by no means short, and, quickly as he walked, it took him sufficiently long to give him time to think about one or two matters. He was a trifle uneasy about the colonel. His mistake had. been a bad THE ARGOSY. one, and he felt fairly certain that he was going to get a strong calling down. But after all that was of minor 1m- portance compared with the wonderful fact of his having won Edith’s love. This was everything. For the time he could think of nothing else. His busi- ness anxieties would claim his atten- tion to-morrow, but that was to-mor- row. For the rest of the day he want- ed to be with Edith. His thoughts were abruptly inter- rupted by his arrival at the colonel’s tent. Deep in meditation, he had lost track of the distance, and had reached it sooner than he had expected. He paused a moment to collect him- self. It was going to be a difficult in- terview. But with the orderly watching him, Bennett did not like to stand there in an attitude denoting hesitation and in- decision, which might possibly be con- strued as humiliation or fear. He stepped inside. As he entered, the colonel, who was reading at a small table, looked up. He did not smile and invite Bennett to seat himself. He simply looked at him. The look of scrutiny. The look of in- spection. The look of unspoken criti- cism. Bennett waited in silence. He was uncomfortable, and this reception did not help to put him at ease. It is never at any time an easy matter to enter a room and meet a hostile gaze from a person who is fortunate enough to be seated already. One feels awkward, out of the picture. . After a minute of stern silence the colonel spoke. “Well?” he said. Under such circumstances this is a hard remark to answer. There is no real answer to it. You answer it ac- cording to your personal taste. Had he been in a frivolous mood, or had the occasion been less serious, Ben- nett might have replied, ‘ Quite well, thank you.” Or had he been reckless- ly bold, he might have said, “ Well, yourself?” . CoOMmicbook CO