“I do not propose to marry any one, and if you will think for a moment
you will know why.”
In a flash her meaning came to me. She'd have to tell her father's
secret to the man she married, and that she would never do. Again that
old skeleton in the family closet was grinning at us.
“Gwendolyn, my thinker has been worn out by overwork here in Italy or it
would not have been asleep at its post,” I said. “I take off my hat to
you and keep it off as long as you're near me. Jiminy Christmas! I like
the stuff you're made of, but look here--the case isn't hopeless. I'll
show you a way out of this trouble some day. Come on, let's go in and
have some breakfast. I'm hungry as a bear.”
“No, thanks! I must go back to my patient,” said the girl. “I never eat
any breakfast.”
“The breakfast habit is purely American. You'll acquire it by and by,”
I assured her. “Wait until you get a settled liking for long days and
short nights.”
She left me, and I thought that I would take a little walk under the
trees before going in. I had not gone a dozen paces when Muggs came
along. He was looking pale and thin and rather untidy.
“I knew that you were an early riser,” said he. “I came to find you if I
could.”
He must have seen a look of anger in my face, for he went on:
“Don't be hard on me. I've come to bring you that two hundred dollars,
with fifty added for the hat and coat.”
He gave me a check, and it nearly knocked me down with astonishment.
“What cunning ruse is this?” I asked myself, and said: “You're not
looking well.”
“I can't eat or sleep,” he continued. “I've been walking the streets
since midnight. There's something I wanted to say, but I'm not up to it
now. I'll try to see you again within a day or two.”
He bade me good morning and went on, and I was puzzled by the serious
look in his face.