He shook his head and walked away. "Preserve your illusions! It's too
wonderful. I'll be believing in palmistry, next I'll believe myself in
love, after that. And then--I'll believe I'm honest, dignified,
honorable, modest!" His tone grew, word by word, more hard and cynical.
Then he turned to her with a whimsical expression: "So you believe your
doll's alive!"
"I've no time to talk nonsense any longer!" she exclaimed, rising
ponderously. "I can't make you out at all, Frank. Sometimes you're
practical as insurance and sometimes you're half bug-house. Maybe it's
them clothes!" She regarded him carefully.
He bowed to her with mock courtesy, spreading his fan.
"Lord, you _do_ look like a fool in that Chink's rig. Have a good time
with 'em--but keep your eyes and your ears open!"
She went out.
He was about to turn out the electric lights and leave, when he heard a
knock at the door. He opened it, and saw the little freckled-face girl
who had come to his office the day he had first met Clytie Payson. He
recognized her instantly, but she, seeing him so extraordinarily
disguised, drew back in surprise.
"Did you want Mr. Granthope?" he asked.
"Yes!" She finally made him out, but still gazed at him, somewhat
frightened. Her face was bloodless.
"Come in," he said kindly. "I'm Granthope. You'll have to excuse this
costume." He set a chair for her, but she stood, timidly regarding him.
"I'm awfully afraid I'm bothering you, Mr. Granthope, coming so late--I
know I ought to have come in your office hours, but I couldn't possibly
get off--and I did want to see you awfully! D'you suppose you could
help me a little, now? I thought you might be able to, you said such
wonderful things when I was here before, and I just can't stand it not
to know, and I don't know what to do."
"Do sit down. Tell me what's the matter, my dear."
She crept into a chair, and sat with nervous hands, staring at him.
"Why, don't you remember?" She gazed at him in alarm. "Oh, I've
depended so on what you said--it's all that kept me going!"
"Just pardon me a moment, please." He went to his desk drawer and began
to fumble over his card catalogue. "I have a memorandum to make. Then
I'll talk to you." He came to the card, and made a penciled note and
glanced it over. Then he returned to her and sat down. "Now tell me
all about it," he said gravely. "I remember perfectly, of course. Bill
was in the Philippines, wasn't he? You hadn't heard from him for some
time, and you were expecting him home on the next transport?"
She sat, limply huddled in her chair, gazing at him through her sad
eyes.
"He did come back. I couldn't meet the boat. I missed him. And now
he's gone!"
"He didn't let you know where he went?"
"Oh, Mr. Granthope, it's too awful! I can't bear it, but I could stand
anything if I could only find him! You _must_ find him for me."
"I'll do what I can, my dear. Your hand shows that it will all come out
for the best. I wouldn't worry."
"Oh, but you don't know! You don't know how bad it is!" she moaned. "I
thought you might know. He was wounded in a battle."
"But he came back?"
"Yes." Then she burst into a hurried torrent of words. "He didn't want
me to know. He was shot in the face--his nose was shot off--it's
awful--some of the men told me about it. Bill was ashamed to have me
see him--he tried to make me think he wasn't in love with me any more,
so I'd go away. But I knew better. Bill's so proud, Mr. Granthope, you
don't know how proud he is! He'd rather leave me than make me suffer.
But what do I care for his nose being gone? Why, Bill's a hero! He had
more nerve than Hobson, anyway! Just because he was the only man in his
company that dared to go through a swamp, under fire, to save his
lieutenant--and he brought him in on his back, Bill did! Why, Bill's
father was killed at Antietam, but Bill's luck was a heap worse than
that! He has to live without a face and be despised and sneered at
because he did his duty! Oh, if I can only find him, I'll give him
something that will make him forget. Don't I love him all the more for
it? He's tried to sacrifice his whole life and happiness only for
me--just to save me from suffering when I look at him. D'you know many
men who'd do that for a girl? I don't!"
She broke down and sobbed convulsively. The story seemed to Granthope
like a scene from a play, and his inability to comfort her smote him
while she fought to restrain her tears.
"And you can't find out where he is?"
"No. The company was mustered out, and Bill just naturally disappeared.
Nobody knows where he is. I've asked all his officers, and all the men I
could find."
He took her hand and looked at it soberly for a moment.
"It will all come out right, my dear. You trust me. There's your line
of fate as clean as a string. I see trouble in it, but only for a
little while. You'll be married, too. You must have patience and wait,
that's all. Suppose you come back and see me in a week or so, and tell
me if you've heard any news of him. Meanwhile, I'll see what I can find
out myself. There's a cross in your hand--that's a good sign. Bill
still loves you, and he won't let you suffer long."
He felt the pitiful emptiness of his words, but he had been too affected
by her narrative to give her the smooth banalities that were always
ready to his tongue. She got up and looked at him through her tears.
"You have helped me, Mr. Granthope. Somehow I knew you could. I'll be
in again sometime. How much is it, please?"
"My dear girl, when you come again, you can thank the young lady whom
you saw here before. Don't thank me."
She looked at him silently, then she took his hand and shook it very
hard. "You mean that lady with red hair who sits at the desk?"
"Yes."
"I liked her when I saw her. She was nice to me. Is--is she Mrs.
Granthope?"
Granthope shook his head and smiled.
The girl blushed at her indiscretion. "I kind of thought--she seemed to
be, well, fond of you. I mean, the way she looked at you, I didn't know
but what you were married. I hope you'll excuse me." She was visibly
confused, and evidently had said much more than she had intended.
"My dear," Granthope replied, "she's far too good for me!"
The girl shook her head slowly, as she rose to go. A smile struggled to
her face as if, for the first time, she noted the incongruity of the
palmist's costume, then, with a grateful look she went out.
As soon as he had left, Granthope sat down at the desk and wrote a note
upon a memorandum pad. It read: