The Pulaskian., 1917-03-09

weariness-"I don't mean that. pre- clsely, mean ,. Probably I don't know what I do mean. I'm really very tired, too tired to go on, just now-to sit here with you, badgering our poor wits with esoteric subtleties. l think-do you mind?-pd better go in.'
 She rose quickly, without waiting for his hand. Whitaker strengthened out his long body with more deliberation, standing finally at full height, his grave and moody countenance strongly relieved in the ruddy glow, while her face was all in shadow.
 "One moment" he begged humbly- before we go in. I've some thing else to say to you. If may"
 She waited, seriously attentive.
 "I haven't played fair, I'm afraid" he said, lowering his head to escape her steadfast gaze. 'Tve just told you that I love you, but .''
 "Well?" she demanded in an odd, ringing voice. 'Isn't it true?"
 "TrueT He laughed unnaturally. ''Tt's so true wish had died before told you!"
 "Please explain" she urged trace wearily.
 "I," he stammered-"I am already married"
 She gave little, stif1ed cry whether of pain or horror or of indig- nation he could not tell.
 "I'm sorry-I-" he began.
 Don't you think you might have thought of this before?"
 "I you don't understand"
 "So it would seem," she put in cruelty.
 "Pleasc hear mel It was several years ago I married a girl I'd never seen before, to help her out of des- perate scrape shed got into. We never lived together, never even saw one another after that hour. She had every reason to think me dead as l should have been, by rights. But now she knows that I'm alive-is about to sue for a divorce"
 After a long pause, during which neither stirred, she told him, in faint voice: "ThaGk you"
 She moved toward the house.
 eff you will forgive me"
 "Oh, forgive you, Mir. Whitaker. My heart is really not quite so fragile as all this implies. I think I'll go to bed. I'm very, very tired, in spite of my sleep on the sands. That didn't rest me- really"
 They returned to the kitchen.
 In silence, while Whitaker fidgeted about the room, awkward and un- happy, the girl removed glass lamp from the shelf above the sink, as- sured herself that it was filled, and lighted it. Then over her shoulder:
 'I hope you don't mean to stay up all night"
 'I-well, I'm really not sleepy"
 "As soon as you feel the least need of sleep, you'll go to bed?'
 'T promise"
 every well, then"
 The insistent note faded from her tones. She moved toward the table, put the lamp down, and hesitated in one of her strange, unpresaged moods of diffidence, looking down at the finger-tips with which she traced a meaningless pattern on the oil-cloth.
 "You are kind" she said abruptly, her head bowed, her face hidden from him.
 "Kind!' he echoed, dumfounded.
 Ivfv fv6 erous to me-" she insisted in level voice. 'You have shown me your heart-the heart of gentleman-with- out reserve; but of me you have asked nothing"
 q don't understand"
 "T mean, you haven't once referred to what happened last night. You've been content to let me preserve my confidence, to remain secretive and mysterious in your sight. That is how I seem to you-isn't it?"
 "Secretive and mysterious? But l have no right to your confidence; your affairs are yours, inviolable, unless you choose to discuss them."
 "You would think that way-of course p Suddenly she showed him her face illuminated with It's frank, shadowy smile, her sweet eyes. kind and as fearless as the eyes of child. "Other men would not, know. And you have every right to know"
 "I-p
 "You: and I shall tell you. .. But not now; there's too much to tell, to explain and make understandable; and I'm too terribly tired. Tomorrow, perhaps-or when we escape from this weird place, when I've had time to think things out--S
 "At your pleasure" he assented gently. "Only-don't let anything worry you.''
 ImpulsiveIy she caught both his hands in clasp at once soft and strong, wholly straightforward and friendly.
 aDo you know,p she said in laugh