But late as it was, after he had landed his guests at their doors, he had
a long talk over the phone with the clerk of his headquarters and sent a
half-dozen telegrams before he turned into his room. When he switched on
his lights he saw that Andrew stood by the window looking out into the
night. His face was so drawn and white as he turned that David started
and reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder.
"Dave," he said, "I'm a blackguard and a coward--don't touch me!"
"What is it, Andrew?" asked David as he laid his arm across the tense
shoulders.
"I thought I was strong and dared to stay--now I know I'm a coward and
couldn't go. I'll have to sneak away and leave her--hurt!" His voice was
low and toned with an unspeakable scorn of himself.
"Andy," asked David, as he swung him around to face him, "was Caroline
Darrah too much for you--and the moon?"
"There's nothing to say about it, David, nothing! I have only made it
hard for her: and killed myself for myself forever. She's a child and
she'll forget. You'll see to her, won't you?"
"What are you going to do now?" asked David sternly.
"Cut and run--cowards always do," answered Andrew bitterly. "I am going
to stay and see you through this election, for it's too late to turn the
press matters over to any one else--and I'm going to pray to find some
way to make it easier for her before I leave her. I'm afraid some day
she'll find out--and not understand why I went."
"Why do you go, Andrew?" asked David as he faced this friend with
compelling eyes. "If it's pride that takes you, better give it up! It's
deadly for you both, for she's more of a woman than you think--she'll
suffer."
"David, do you think she would have me if she knew what I put aside
to take her--_and his millions_? Could Peters Brown's heiress ever
have anything but contempt for me? When it comes to her she must
understand--and not think I held it against her!"
"Tell her, Andrew; let her decide! It's her right now!"
"Never," answered Andrew passionately. "She is just beginning to lose
some of her sensitiveness among us and this is the worst of all the
things she has felt were between her and her people. It is the only thing
he covered and hid from her. I'll _never_ tell her--I'll go--and she
will forget!" In his voice there was the note of finality that is
unmistakable from man to man. He turned toward his room as he finished
speaking.
"Then, boy," said David as he held him back for a second in the bend of
his arm, a tenderness in voice and clasp, "go if you must; but we've
three days yet. The gods can get mighty busy in that many hours if they
pull on a woman's side--which they always do. Good night!"