Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 23, 2025
Now I must be off. But I will see him first. Will you show me his room?" "He is asleep," objected Aubrey. "Is it not a pity to disturb him?" "I doubt his being asleep," replied Dick. "But if he is, we shall not wake him." He stepped into the passage, his attitude one of uncompromising determination. Aubrey Treherne opened the door of Ronnie's room. It was in darkness.
He turned in, half an hour ago, and seemed really inclined to sleep. He was almost off, when I left him." Aubrey, closing the door, led the way to his sitting-room, where the three easy chairs were still drawn up before the stove. "I conclude you are Dr. Cameron," said Aubrey, turning up the light, and motioning his visitor to the chair which had lately been Ronnie's.
You are Ronnie's special chum, Dick Cameron." Dick did not lift his head. As a matter of fact, at that moment he could not. But, though his throat contracted, so that speech became impossible, in his heart he was saying: "What a woman! Lor, what a woman! Ninety-nine out of a hundred would have offered me tea and tea that had stood an hour; and the hundredth would have sent for a policeman!
"Yours till death and after, Aubrey's letter fell upon Helen as a crushing, stunning blow. At first her womanhood reeled beneath it. "What have I been what have I done," she cried, "that a man dares to write thus to me?" Then her wifehood rose up in arms as she thought of Ronnie's gay, boyish trust in her; their happy life together; his joyous love and laughter. She clenched her hands.
She heard Simpkins cross the hall and open the door. The next moment the horses' hoofs pounded up the drive, and she heard the crunch of the wheels coming to a standstill on the wet gravel. A murmur from Simpkins, then Ronnie's gay, joyous voice, as he entered the house. "In the sitting-room? Oh, thanks! Yes, take my coat. No, not this. I will put it down myself."
The parting, which had seemed so far away, must take place on the morrow. It took all Helen's bright courage to keep up Ronnie's spirits. After dinner they sat together in a room they still called the studio, although Helen had given up her painting, soon after their marriage. It was a large old-fashioned room, oak-panelled and spacious.
A master-hand had waked its voice once more. Ronnie's head swam. A hot mist was before his eyes. His breath came in short sobs. He had completely forgotten the sardonic face of his wife's cousin, in the chair opposite. Then the hot mist cleared. He raised the bow once more, and drew it across G. G merged into D without a pause. Then, with a strong triumphant sweep, he sounded A.
The fitful firelight and the large mirror supplied excellent mediums for the visualisation of the subjective picture. Of course, we do not yet know what Ronnie saw. I trust we never shall. It is to be hoped he has forgotten it. Had you and I seen nothing, we should unquestionably have dismissed the whole thing as merely a delirious nightmare of Ronnie's unhinged brain.
"Oh, holy Christ of Christmas, may the new life to come be very perfect for my Ronnie, my baby, and me." "Helen!" came Ronnie's eager happy voice, shouting over the stairs. "I say, Helen! Where are you?" "Coming, darling!" she called, passing out of the studio, and moving swiftly down the corridor. Ronnie, on the landing, was leaning over the banisters, an expression of comic dismay on his face.
The right foot of the figure, placed further back than the left, was slightly raised. The heel was off the floor. Ronnie's right heel was also lifted. Then, looking past the figure in the chair, he marked behind him, where in the reflection of the studio should have been the door, heavy black curtains hanging in sombre folds.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking