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Updated: June 9, 2025
Atwell's Battery limbered up in hot haste, turned, and dashed in thunder up the road. It must cross the bridge, seize some height, from there defend the crossing. Where the battery had been the cavalry now formed the screen, thin enough and ragged, yet menacing the grey infantry. The grey skirmishers rallied, fixed bayonets and advanced, the Louisianians close behind.
"Do you want them back?" he demanded. "I will go in for them!" "No, no! No. But it seemed such a waste!" "Yes, that is a sin, too." They climbed silently to the hotel. At Mrs. Atwell's door, he spoke. "Try to forget what I said, and forgive me, if you can." "Yes yes, I will, Mr. Gregory. You mustn't think of it any moa."
Report at the front line according to your instructions. It is risky work and I wish you both the best of luck." My heart dropped to zero and Atwell's face was a study. We saluted and left. That wishing us the "best of luck" sounded very ominous in our ears; if he had said "I wish you both a swift and painless death" it would have been more to the point.
When she went to school the next Monday morning she discovered that it did hurt, just a trifle, to be deliberately cut by the Picture Girl, and, instead of being greeted with Susan Atwell's dimpled smile, to receive an icy stare from that young woman, as, later in the morning, they passed each other in the corridor.
Atwell's room, which was on a level with the veranda where he was walking, it came to him that first of all he ought to go to her, and confess the whole affair; if her husband were with her, he ought to confess before him; they were there in the place of the child's father and mother, and it was due to them.
She soon spied Muriel, whose gown of white lace was vastly becoming. So was Susan Atwell's dress of old rose and silver. She wondered a trifle wickedly if they had not been surprised to see Constance blossom out in such brave attire. Then she put the thought aside as unworthy and determined to remember only the good time she was having.
"Do you want them back?" he demanded. "I will go in for them!" "No, no! No. But it seemed such a waste!" "Yes, that is a sin, too." They climbed silently to the hotel. At Mrs. Atwell's door, he spoke. "Try to forget what I said, and forgive me, if you can." "Yes yes, I will, Mr. Gregory. You mustn't think of it any moa."
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