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"On the Firing Line"


They will keep out of your way, till you have had time to rest up a
bit. Paddy is waiting to look out for you; but you needn't worry. He
knows when to hold his tongue. If you need anything, or if you care
to talk, send him out to look for me. Meanwhile, you need some
rest."


CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"For God's sake, Weldon, how long is this going to last?"
Weldon raised his eyes from the seven-weeks-old Times in his hand,
and looked at Carew in surprise.
"What last?" he questioned blankly.
Carew sprang to his feet and began to pace up and down with
impatient, nervous steps.
"This. Everything," he said.
Weldon's smile, though it went no deeper than his lips, was half
sarcastic, wholly sad.
"Specify," he advised languidly. "My mind can't grasp your
generalities."
Carew took a few more turns. Then he came back to Weldon's side.
"It's this way, Harvey," he said slowly, for the moment lapsing into
the name by which he had called his friend in their childhood;
"since you came back from Johannesburg, you've not been the same
man. What has done it?"
Weldon's lips shut with a tightness which curled the corners
downward. Then, as he looked into the questioning eyes and anxious
face of his companion, his own eyes softened, and he changed his
mind in regard to keeping silence.


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