The principle had too deep a root in her
being--to tear it up would be to destroy her whole joy
in life, she said, leaving Cardiff to wonder vaguely what
she meant.
"I will wait," he said, as she rose to go; "but you will
come back with me now, and we will write a book--some
other book--together."
The girl laughed gaily. "All alone by myself I must do
it," she answered. "And I must do _this_ book. You will
approve it when it is done. I am not afraid."
He had her hands again. "Elfrida," he threatened, "if
you go on the stage to-night in the costume I see so
graphically advertised--an Austrian hussar, isn't it?--I
will attend. I will take a box," he added, wondering at
his own brutality. But by any means he must prevail.
Elfrida turned a shade paler. "You will not do that,"
she said gravely. "Good-by. Thank you for having come to
persuade me to give this up. And I wish I could do what
you would like. But it is quite, quite impossible." She
bent over him and touched his forehead lightly with her
lips. "Good-by," she said again, and was gone.
An hour later he was on his way back to town. As the
mail train whizzed by another, side-tracked to await its
passing, Mr. Cardiff might have seen Kendal, if there
had been time to look, puffing luxuriously in a smoking
compartment, and unfolding a copy of the _Illustrated Age_.
Pages:
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280