"I can
remember at least one dark night when Kruger Bobs made an excellent
showing."
She nodded.
"We have bad a few Americans here before, Mr. Weldon. I think I
understand."
"How long have you been here?" he asked, after a pause.
"Ten weeks."
"And you like it?"
"Why else should I be here?"
"From a sense of duty."
"Is that what brought you out?"
"No. My coming was inevitable. It seemed a part of me that I
couldn't help."
"But you wished to come?" she queried.
"Of course. But that was only a Dart of it. I have wished to do
things before, and have done them. This was quite different. It all
seemed a part of Fate, and I walked through it, like a puppet with
somebody else's hand pulling the strings." He paused and shook his
head. "It is no use. I can't make you understand it. I acted freely
and did just what I chose; but yet, all the time, I felt as if it
had all been arranged for me, whole generations ago."
Thoughtfully she bent forward, straightened the coverings above his
wounded leg; then sat up again. Then she shook her head a little
regretfully.
"No," she said. "I am afraid I don't understand. Perhaps it is
because I am selfish; but I usually feel as if I made my plans,
regardless of Fate.
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