"
"You need a wife, Courtney," I exclaimed.
He laughed. "No--I need a drink, a good stiff drink. I'm getting old,
and lonely for the tried friends I've lost; you are the last deserter."
"Nonsense," I began.
"No, it's true as gospel," he went on. "Our paths separated forever at
the Palace, last night. You are a Royal Highness and the possible heir
to the Throne. And I am an elderly American diplomat--here, to-day;
gone to-morrow."
"You need several good stiff drinks," I interrupted.
He waved aside my banter. "I give you a toast," he went on, pouring a
measure for each of us. "The Princess Dehra--and another like her."
"And may you find that other," I cried.
Then we drained our glasses and flung them into the grate.
I was tremendously astonished at this revelation of Courtney's
feelings--feelings which I had never even suspected. And, I fear, I
had the bad taste to stare at him. For he turned abruptly and walked
to the window, and stood, for a moment, with his back to me. I drew on
my gloves and hitched up my sword (I was wearing the undress of a
general officer) and waited.
"Of course, you understood, last night, that there were no papers for
you to sign," he said, as he came slowly back to the table.
Pages:
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133