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Updated: June 26, 2025
"I am looking for ghosts," replied Bouchard with saturnine emphasis. "Oh, don't say that!" cried Minna distractedly. "Sometimes at night I hear their chains clanking and their groans and cries for water," she continued, playing the superstitious and stupid maid servant. "That is, I think I do. Miss Galland says I don't." "Does she go into the tunnel?" asked Bouchard.
Feller cried. "A regiment of guns for yours truly! You've made me the happiest man in the world. And haven't I smacked the Grays in the tummy, not to mention in the nose and on the shins! Well, I should say so! La, la, la!" "You certainly have, you bully old boy!" said Lanstron. "Miss Galland sends her congratulations and regards." "Eh, what? Her regards to me!
His work had intimate relation to that which the Marta of twenty-seven, a Marta with a mission, had set for herself. A page came to tell Westerling that Miss Galland should be down directly. But before she came a waiter entered with a tea-tray. "By the lady's direction, sir," he explained as he set the tray on a table opposite Westerling.
He did not attempt masculine firmness this time, only boyish pleading and a sort of younger-brother camaraderie. "Miss Galland, you're such a good soldier please and I'm sure you have not had your breakfast, and all good soldiers never neglect their rations, not at the beginning of a war! Miss Galland, please ." Yes, as he meant it, please be a good fellow.
He looked up smilingly to Marta. "I have decided that I had rather not be a Westerling, Miss Galland," he said. "We'll make it unanimous. And you," he burst out to Lanstron "you legatee of old Partow; I've always said that he was the biggest man of our time. He has proved it by catching the spirit of our time and incarnating it."
Head bowed and hardly seeing the path, he permitted the aide to choose the way, which lay across the boundary of the Galland estate. They had passed the stumps of the linden-trees and were in the vacant lot on the other side, when something white fluttered toward him, rustled by the breeze that carried it, and lay still almost at his feet.
Then she looked up to Lanstron and the flame in her eyes, whose leaping, spontaneous passion he already knew, held something of the eternal, as her arms crept around his neck. "You are life, Lanny! You are the destiny of to-day and to-morrow!" Though it was very late autumn now, such was the warmth of the sun that, with a wrap, Mrs. Galland was sitting on the veranda.
"Both are away at church. Mrs. Galland ought to be here any minute, but Miss Galland will be later because of her children's class," said Minna. "Will you wait on the veranda?"
Galland and Minna saw her ghostlike as she passed through the living-room, their startled questions unheeded. Could it be true that she had betrayed every decent attribute of a woman in vain? Why had the counter-attack failed? Because Westerling had been too strong, too clever, for old Partow? Because God was still with the heaviest battalions?
Galland paused while they exchanged the greetings of old friends. "Your Excellency, may we send back for you, sir?" called the doctor. He was not one to let rank awe him when duty pressed. "This hand ought to be at the hospital at once." "I'm coming along. I've a train to catch," replied His Excellency, springing into the car.
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