Andrew the Glad

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!"