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Updated: June 25, 2025
The man whose love can make such accusations isn't the Stuart Farquaharson that made me willing to die for him. Perhaps after all I only dreamed that man. It was a wonderful dream." She carried the fingers of one hand to her temple in a bewildered gesture, then shook back her head as one rousing oneself with an effort from sleep.
Then as she reeled back, with a wildly ungoverned gesture she ran her fingers through her hair until it fell in tangled waves about her shoulders. It was perhaps a full minute before she could speak and while she stood recovering her breath, Stuart Farquaharson looked helplessly down at the instrument which she had succeeded in rendering useless.
Conscience Tollman was in a dangerous mood, and some of her belligerency of spirit Stuart Farquaharson saw as he came quietly to her side and spoke her name, gently, as one might speak to a sleep walker. "Why did you come?" She looked at him a little wildly and her voice shook. "I wanted to be alone." "I was troubled about you," he said very gently. "You had been away so long."
Farquaharson now my opinion?" "In the Philippines," said Marian Holbury, "the army officers have a name for a dishonorable discharge from the service. They call it the 'yellow furlough. Do you imagine that Stuart Farquaharson could willingly retire in that fashion? Don't you see how greatly he would covet an honorable discharge?"
I brought these men to establish beyond doubt the identity of the co-respondent. It's a gentle riddance a crooked wife and a crooked paramour." One of the men advanced into the room and ostentatiously gathered in a couple of hairpins and a bit of torn lace, while Farquaharson crossed and stood face to face with the irate husband. "Do you mean that you believe that?"
He maintained, as he did it, all the semblance of a fair-minded man painting extenuations into his portrait of the absent Farquaharson. "And you call this predisposition to looseness and license a thing to be condoned, to be mixed with the blood of one's own posterity? Eben, I've never seen you make excuses for ungodliness before." The fierce old face suddenly cleared. "But there there!
"I could have wished," the minister's face clouded with anxiety, "that I might have seen Conscience settled down with a godly husband and a child or two about her before I go. Those are restless days and a girl should have an anchorage." There was a pause and at its end Tollman said hesitantly, almost tentatively, "There is young Mr. Farquaharson, of course." "Young Mr. Farquaharson!"
"You see," she told him, after another long pause, "it's a thing falling in love that I should do rather riotously if I did it at all. I shouldn't be able to think of much else." Stuart Farquaharson wanted to seize her in his arms and protest that she could never love him too riotously, but he instead schooled his voice to a level almost monotonous.
"Because he had the courage to trust his happiness under fire." "That implies that until now at least he was in doubt." "Grave doubt. I think he was almost ready to call it all a failure." After a long silence Stuart Farquaharson spoke with a quiet of resolution which held more feeling than could have been voiced by vehemence. "You have told me enough, Conscience. I will not go.
His wife's level tone as she spoke, no less than her words, intensified his conviction of defeat. "The note that I asked you to mail to Stuart Farquaharson that night when he left never reached him." So she had, after all, been playing with him as a cat plays with a mouse! She had left the room, only to return and confront him when he was unmanned.
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