For all that, wild horses could not have torn from the Colonel
a word about Hotchkiss’s anger. “He expressed his intention of
employing counsel—and defending a suit,” returned the Colonel,
affably basking in her smile. She dragged her chair nearer his
desk. “Then you’ll fight him tooth and nail?” she said eagerly;
“you’ll show him up? You’ll tell the whole story your own way?
You’ll give him fits?—and you’ll make him pay? Sure?” she went on,
breathlessly.
“I—er—will,” said the Colonel, almost as breathlessly.
She caught his fat white hand, which was lying on the table,
between her own and lifted it to her lips. He felt her soft
young fingers even through the lisle-thread gloves that encased
them and the warm moisture of her lips upon his skin. He felt
himself flushing—but was unable to break the silence or change his
position. The next moment she had scuttled back with her chair to
her old position.
“I—er—certainly shall do my best,” stammered the Colonel, in an
attempt to recover his dignity and composure.
“That’s enough! You’ll _do_ it,” said the girl, enthusiastically.
“Lordy! Just you talk for _me_ as ye did for _his_ old Ditch
Company, and you’ll fetch it—every time! Why, when you made that
jury sit up the other day—when you got that off about the Merrikan
flag waving equally over the rights of honest citizens banded
together in peaceful commercial pursuits, as well as over the
fortress of official proflig—”
“Oligarchy,” murmured the Colonel, courteously.
“Oligarchy,” repeated the girl, quickly, “my breath was just took
away. I said to maw, ‘Ain’t he too sweet for anything!’ I did,
honest Injin! And when you rolled it all off at the end—never
missing a word—(you didn’t need to mark ’em in a lesson-book, but
had ’em all ready on your tongue), and walked out—Well! I didn’t
know you nor the Ditch Company from Adam, but I could have just run
over and kissed you there before the whole court!”
She laughed, with her face glowing, although her strange eyes were
cast down. Alack! the Colonel’s face was equally flushed, and
his own beady eyes were on his desk. To any other woman he would
have voiced the banal gallantry that he should now, himself, look
forward to that reward, but the words never reached his lips. He
laughed, coughed slightly, and when he looked up again she had
fallen into the same attitude as on her first visit, with her
parasol point on the floor.
“I must ask you to—er—direct your memory—to—er—another point; the
breaking off of the—er—er—er—engagement. Did he—er—give any reason
for it? Or show any cause?”
“No; he never said anything,” returned the girl.
“Not in his usual way?—er—no reproaches out of the hymn-book?—or
the sacred writings?”
“No; he just _quit_.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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