if he abhorred being watched in this case. “Oh, by the way,” he added. Then he paused for a moment. “Aw — a friend of mine — not a bad fellow — he asked me for an introduction. Of course, I told him I’d ask you.”
She made a contemptuous gesture. “Oh, another Willie. Tell him no. Tell him to go home to his family. Tell him to run away.”
“He isn’t a bad fellow. He—” said Coleman diffidently, “he would probably be at the theatre every night in a box.”
“Yes, and get drunk and throw a wine bottle on the stage instead of a bouquet. No,” she declared positively, “I won’t see him.”
Coleman did not seem to be oppressed by this ultimatum. “Oh, all right. I promised him — that was all.”
“Besides, are you in a great hurry to get rid of me?”
“Rid of you? Nonsense.”
They walked in the shadows. “How long are you going to be in London, Rufus?” asked Nora softly.
“Who? I? Oh, I’m going right off to Greece. First train. There’s going to be a war, you know.”
“A war? Why, who is going to fight? The Greeks and the — the — the what?”
“The Turks. I’m going right over there.”
“Why, that’s dreadful, Rufus,” said the girl, mournful and shocked. “You might get hurt or something.” Presently she asked: “And aren’t you going to be in London any time at all?”
“Oh,” he answered, puffing out his lips, “I may stop in London for three or four days on my way home. I’m not sure of it.”
“And when will that be?”
“Oh, I can’t tell. It may be in three or four months, or it may be a year from now. When the war stops.” There was a long silence as they walked up and down the swaying deck.
“Do you know,” said Nora at last, “I like you, Rufus Coleman. I don’t know any good reason for it, either, unless it is because you are such a brute. Now, when I was asking you if you were to be in London, you were perfectly detestable. You knew I was anxious.”
“I — detestable?” cried Coleman, feigning amazement. “Why, what did I say?”
“It isn’t so much what you said—” began Nora slowly. Then she suddenly changed her manner. “Oh, well, don’t let’s talk about it any more. It’s too foolish. Only — you are a disagreeable person sometimes.”
In the morning, as the vessel steamed up the Irish channel, Coleman was on deck, keeping furtive watch on the cabin stairs. After two hours of waiting, he scribbled a message on a card and sent it below. He received an answer that Miss Black had a headache, and felt too ill to come on deck. He went to the smoking room. The three card-players glanced up, grinning. “What’s the matter?” asked the wine merchant. “You look angry.” As a matter of fact, Coleman had purposely wreathed his features in a pleasant and satisfied expression, so he was for a moment furious at the wine merchant.
“Confound the girl,” he thought to himself. “She has succeeded in making all these beggars laugh at me.” He mused that if he had another chance he would show her how disagreeable or detestable or scampish he was under some circumstances. He reflected ruefully that the complacence with which he had accepted the comradeship of the belle of the voyage might have been somewhat overdone. Perhaps he had got a little out of proportion. He was annoyed at the stares of the other men in the smoking room, who seemed now to be reading his discomfiture. As for Nora Black he thought of her wistfully and angrily as a superb woman whose company was honour and joy, a payment for any sacrifices.
“What’s the matter?” persisted the wine merchant. “You look grumpy.”
Coleman laughed. “Do I?”
At Liverpool, as the steamer was being slowly warped to the landing stage by some tugs, the passengers crowded the deck with their hand-bags. Adieus were falling as dead leaves fall from a great tree. The stewards were handling small hills of luggage marked with flaming red labels. The ship was firmly
She made a contemptuous gesture. “Oh, another Willie. Tell him no. Tell him to go home to his family. Tell him to run away.”
“He isn’t a bad fellow. He—” said Coleman diffidently, “he would probably be at the theatre every night in a box.”
“Yes, and get drunk and throw a wine bottle on the stage instead of a bouquet. No,” she declared positively, “I won’t see him.”
Coleman did not seem to be oppressed by this ultimatum. “Oh, all right. I promised him — that was all.”
“Besides, are you in a great hurry to get rid of me?”
“Rid of you? Nonsense.”
They walked in the shadows. “How long are you going to be in London, Rufus?” asked Nora softly.
“Who? I? Oh, I’m going right off to Greece. First train. There’s going to be a war, you know.”
“A war? Why, who is going to fight? The Greeks and the — the — the what?”
“The Turks. I’m going right over there.”
“Why, that’s dreadful, Rufus,” said the girl, mournful and shocked. “You might get hurt or something.” Presently she asked: “And aren’t you going to be in London any time at all?”
“Oh,” he answered, puffing out his lips, “I may stop in London for three or four days on my way home. I’m not sure of it.”
“And when will that be?”
“Oh, I can’t tell. It may be in three or four months, or it may be a year from now. When the war stops.” There was a long silence as they walked up and down the swaying deck.
“Do you know,” said Nora at last, “I like you, Rufus Coleman. I don’t know any good reason for it, either, unless it is because you are such a brute. Now, when I was asking you if you were to be in London, you were perfectly detestable. You knew I was anxious.”
“I — detestable?” cried Coleman, feigning amazement. “Why, what did I say?”
“It isn’t so much what you said—” began Nora slowly. Then she suddenly changed her manner. “Oh, well, don’t let’s talk about it any more. It’s too foolish. Only — you are a disagreeable person sometimes.”
In the morning, as the vessel steamed up the Irish channel, Coleman was on deck, keeping furtive watch on the cabin stairs. After two hours of waiting, he scribbled a message on a card and sent it below. He received an answer that Miss Black had a headache, and felt too ill to come on deck. He went to the smoking room. The three card-players glanced up, grinning. “What’s the matter?” asked the wine merchant. “You look angry.” As a matter of fact, Coleman had purposely wreathed his features in a pleasant and satisfied expression, so he was for a moment furious at the wine merchant.
“Confound the girl,” he thought to himself. “She has succeeded in making all these beggars laugh at me.” He mused that if he had another chance he would show her how disagreeable or detestable or scampish he was under some circumstances. He reflected ruefully that the complacence with which he had accepted the comradeship of the belle of the voyage might have been somewhat overdone. Perhaps he had got a little out of proportion. He was annoyed at the stares of the other men in the smoking room, who seemed now to be reading his discomfiture. As for Nora Black he thought of her wistfully and angrily as a superb woman whose company was honour and joy, a payment for any sacrifices.
“What’s the matter?” persisted the wine merchant. “You look grumpy.”
Coleman laughed. “Do I?”
At Liverpool, as the steamer was being slowly warped to the landing stage by some tugs, the passengers crowded the deck with their hand-bags. Adieus were falling as dead leaves fall from a great tree. The stewards were handling small hills of luggage marked with flaming red labels. The ship was firmly
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