Weldon was no Galahad. He had danced and dined with many women, had
given sympathy to some, chaff to others; nevertheless, his relations
with them had been curiously direct and simple. Quite unconsciously
to himself, his mother's code had become ingrained in the very fibre
of his being. And now he was ready to stand or fall by his judgment
that Ethel Dent, Cooee as he called her in his secret heart, was as
good and loyal as a woman could be. The future seemed to him so
obvious that he made no effort to forecast it. He was content to
wait.
"Christmas is nearly over, Weldon."
He roused himself abruptly, as Captain Frazer dropped down at his
side.
"Yes; but the revel will outlast the day," he answered, laughing.
"Tommy is in his glory now, and it will take more than taps to make
him subside."
"Perhaps. He has rioted most joyously. Christmas has been no empty
mockery to him." Weldon's quick ear detected a ring of melancholy in
the Captain's voice.
"Has it to you?"
The Captain sat silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the winking
fires.
"Not really. Of course, we all have been a bit homesick, and I can
see no shame in confessing it.
Pages:
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212