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Updated: April 30, 2025
"You?" said Ralston quietly. "You want to help? You were Shere Ali's friend." Ralston smiled as he spoke, but there was no hint of irony in either words or smile. It was a smile rather of tolerance, and almost of regret the smile of a man who was well accustomed to seeing the flowers and decorative things of life wither over-quickly, and yet was still alert and not indifferent to the change.
The slender form slid from him over-quickly. "You, too, must be very tired," she said with breath coming fast. He glanced swiftly back; listened. "We'll rest here," he commanded. "We've got to. I should have stopped before, but" the words came in a harsher staccato "I dared not." "I'll be all right in a few moments," she answered, resting on a fallen log, "and then "
He had ventured to write his name thrice on her card, but neither of the dances he had claimed was the next. "I put your name down for this one myself," she confessed to him a few moments later. "Do you mind?" Did he? The evening wore away but too soon; he held her to him a little while, only over-quickly to be obliged to yield her to another.
No doubt the ring betokened one of those tiresome people who come round for old bottles and such-like fal-lals. She went slowly, reluctantly to the door. And then her face cleared, for it was that good young chap, Joe Chandler, who stood waiting outside. He was breathing a little hard, as if he had walked over-quickly through the moist, foggy air. "Why, Joe?" said Mrs. Bunting wonderingly.
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