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Updated: June 9, 2025
Gatewood," she said, handing him a long slip of printed matter. "The replies to such questions as you are able or willing to answer you may dictate to me."
"Yes, I do," smiled Mrs. Gatewood. "Nonsense. Besides, what of it? She's married, you say." "Her husband died of enteric at Ladysmith. She wrote me. She has never remarried. Think of it, John in all these years she has never remarried!" "Oh!" said Gatewood pityingly; "do you really suppose that Tommy Kerns has been nursing a blighted affection all these years without ever giving me an inkling?
Crossed a prairie twelve miles broad and arrived at the house of Rutherford, the second man on the cutthroat list. We had time enough to pass this house, but having a list of desperadoes, and being disappointed in seeing Gatewood, curiosity induced us to spend the night. This was a piece of comedy for information which was near ending in tradegy. Our traveling party consisted of four persons, Dr.
"Y-yes," confessed Gatewood, "it's all right for me once in a while, because I know that I am presently going back to my own home a jolly lamplit room and the prettiest girl in Manhattan curled up in an armchair " "You're fortunate," said Kerns shortly. And for the first time there remained no lurking mockery in his voice; for the first time his retort was tinged with bitterness.
"What do you make of that?" demanded Gatewood hoarsely. "Make of it? Why, it's true enough, I fancy. Go and see, and if it's she, be hers!" "I won't! I don't want to see any ideal! I don't want to marry. Why do you try to make me marry somebody?" "Because it's good for you, dear friend. Otherwise you'll go to the doggy-dogs. You don't realize how much worry you are to me." "Confound it!
In a few moments she will be passing. I do not know her name; she rides a big roan. She is very beautiful, Mr. Gatewood." He said: "I am perfectly certain we shall find her. I doubted it until now. But now I know." "Oh-h, but I may be wrong," she protested. "No; you cannot be." She looked up at him. "You can have no idea how happy you make me," he said unsteadily.
"Have you any remarks of that description to offer, Mr. Gatewood?" "I'm willing to make remarks," he said, "if I only knew what you wished me to say." She mused, eyes on the sunny window, then looked up. "Where did you last see her?" "Near Fifth Avenue." "And what street?" He named the street. "Near here?" "Rather," he said timidly.
It was his work; he had done it; it was good for Gatewood too time for him to stop his irresponsible cruise through life, lower sail, heave to, set his signals, and turn over matters to this charming pilot.
"I know a girl," broke in Gatewood excitedly, laying his arm on Kerns's to detain him; but Kerns slid sideways through the door with a smile so noncommittal that Mrs. Gatewood laughed again and, linking her arm in her husband's, faced partly toward him.
"I did, dear friend." "Did I or didn't I do it?" "In the words of the classic, you done it," admitted Kerns. "Was I or wasn't I going to the devil before I had the sense to marry?" persisted Gatewood. "You was! You was, dear friend!" said Kerns with enthusiasm. "You had almost went there ere I appeared and saved you." "Then why shouldn't you marry and let me save you?"
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