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Scott, John Reed, 1869-

"The Colonel of the Red Huzzars"


"I am ready to remember anything," I said, catching one of the petals.
"Oh! But maybe I don't want you to remember."
"Then I'm ready----"
She looked at me quickly. "To forget?" she interrupted.
"To remember only what you wish," I ended.
"That means you will remember nothing until I wish it?"
I caught the half-plucked rose as she let it fall.
"It means my memory is at your command," I said.
She drew out another rose and dropped it deliberately.
"I am very awkward," she said, as I bent for it.
"On the contrary, I thought you did it very prettily," I answered.
She laughed. "Then you may keep it instead of the torn one."
"I shall keep both."
"Always?" she mocked.
"At least until I leave you."
"Thank Heaven, cousin, for once in my life I have had an honest
answer!" she exclaimed, holding out her hand.
I took it. I did not kiss it, though that may seem strange.
Sometimes, I do have the proper sense of the fitness of things.
"It's the privilege of cousins to be frank," I quoted.
"Have you always been frank with me?" she asked.
"Rather too much so, I fear."
She gave me a sharp look. "Do you know a Captain Smith of your Army?"
"Smith is a very common name in America.


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