Part 30 (1/2)
' Oh, dear! ” She pressed her palm to a burning cheek. She gave him a star-like, beseeching glance.
Let me go now-please.”
” Well,” he answered, somewhat affronted, ” if you like--”
At the door she turned to look at him, and this glance expressed in its elusive way a score of things which she had not yet been able to speak. It explained that she was loth to leave him, that she asked forgiveness for leaving him, that even for a short absence she wished to take his image in her eyes, that he must not bully her, that there was something now in her heart which frightened her, that she loved him, that she was happy---
When she had gone, Coleman went to the rooms of the American minister. A Greek was there who talked wildly as he waved his cigarette. Coleman waited in well-concealed impatience for the dvapora- tion of this man. Once the minister, regarding the correspondent hurriedly, interpolated a comment.
” You look very cheerful ? ”
” Yes,” answered Coleman, ” I've been taking your advice.”
” Oh, ho ! ” said the minister.
The Greek with the cigarette jawed endlessly.
Coleman began to marvel at the enduring good man- ners of the minister, who continued to nod and nod in polite appreciation of the Greek's harangue, which, Coleman firmly believed, had no point of interest whatever. But at last the man, after an effusive farewell, went his way.
” Now,” said the minister, wheeling in his chair tell me all about it.”
Coleman arose, and thrusting his hands deep in his trousers' pockets, began to pace the room with long strides. He, said nothing, but kept his eyes on the floor.
” Can I have a drink ? ” he asked, abruptly pausing.
” What would you like? ” asked the minister, benevolently, as he touched the bell.
” A brandy and soda. I'd like it very much. You see,” he said, as he resumed his walk, ” I have no kind of right to burden you with my affairs, but, to tell the truth, if I don't get this news off my mind and into somebody's ear, I'll die. It's this-I asked Marjory Wainwright to marry me, and-she accepted, and- that's all.”
” Well, I am very glad,” cried the minister, arising and giving his hand. ”And as for burdening me with your affairs, no one has a better right, you know, since you released me from the persecution of Was.h.i.+ngton and the friends of the Wainwrights. May good luck follow you both forever. You, in my opinion, are a very, very fortunate man. And, for her part she has not done too badly.”
Seeing that it was important that Coleman should have his spirits pacified in part, the minister continued: ” Now, I have got to write an official letter, so you just walk up and down here and use up this surplus steam. Else you'll explode.”
But Coleman was not to be detained. Now that he had informed the minister, he must rush off some.
where, anywhere, and do-he knew not what.
All right,” said the minister, laughing. ” You have a wilder head than I thought. But look here,”
he called, as Coleman was making for the door. ” Am I to keep this news a secret? ”
Coleman with his hand on the k.n.o.b, turned im.
pressively. He spoke with deliberation. ” As far as I am concerned, I would be glad to see a man paint it in red letters, eight feet high, on the front of the king's palace.”
The minister, left alone, wrote steadily and did not even look up when Peter Tounley and two others entered, in response to his cry of permission. How ever, he presently found time to speak over his shoulder to them. ”Hear the news?”
”No, sir,” they answered.
” Well, be good boys, now, and read the papers and look at pictures until I finish this letter. Then I will tell you.”
They surveyed him keenly. They evidently judged that the news was worth hearing, but, obediently, they said nothing. Ultimately the minister affixed a rapid signature to the letter, and turning, looked at the students with a smile.
” Haven't heard the news, eh ?”
”No, Sir.”