Part 23 (2/2)

”Oh--I'm sorry,” said Norah, looking at him in astonishment. This lean, active-looking fellow with the nervous hands certainly looked as though he should be able to ride. Indeed, there were no men in Norah's world who could not. But, perhaps----

”What about a walk, then?” she inquired. ”Do you feel up to it?”

Again Hardress flushed.

”I thought your brother would have explained,” he said heavily. ”I can't do anything much, Miss Linton. You see, I've only one leg.”

Norah's grey eyes were wide with distress.

”I didn't know,” she faltered. ”The telephone was out of order--Jim couldn't explain. I'm so terribly sorry--you must have thought me stupid.”

”Not a bit--after all, it's rather a compliment to the shop-made article. I was afraid it was evident enough.”

”Indeed it isn't,” Norah a.s.sured him. ”I knew you limped a little--but it wasn't very noticeable.”

”It's supposed to be a special one,” Hardress said. ”I'm hardly used to it yet, though, and it feels awkward enough. They've been experimenting with it for some time, and now I'm a sort of trial case for that brand of leg. The maker swears I'll be able to dance with it: he's a hopeful soul. I'm not.”

”You ought to try to be,” Norah said. ”And it really must be a very good one.” She felt a kind of horror at talking of it in this cold-blooded fas.h.i.+on.

”I think most of the hopefulness was knocked out of me,” Hardress answered. ”You see, I wanted to save the old leg, and they tried to: and then it was a case of one operation after another, until at last they took it off--near the hip.”

Norah went white.

”Near the hip!” Her voice shook. ”Oh, it couldn't be--you're so big and strong!”

Hardress laughed grimly.

”I used to think it couldn't be, myself,” he said. ”Well, I suppose one will get accustomed to it in time. I'm sorry I distressed you, Miss Linton--only I thought I had better make a clean breast of it.”

”I'm glad you did.” Norah had found control of her voice and her wits: she remembered that this maimed lad with the set face was there to be helped, and that it was part of her job to do it. Her very soul was wrung with pity, but she forced a smile.

”Now you have just got to let us help,” she said. ”We can't try to make forget it, I know, but we can help to make the best of it. You can practise using it in all sorts of ways, and seeing just what you can do with it. And, Captain Hardress, I know they do wonders now with artificial legs: Dad knew of a man who played tennis with his--as bad a case as yours.”

”That certainly seems too good to be true,” said Hardress.

”I don't know about that,” said Norah eagerly. ”Your leg must be very good--none of us guessed the truth about it. When you get used to it, you'll be able to manage all sorts of things. Golf, for instance--there's a jolly little nine-hole course in the park, and I know you could play.”

”I had thought golf might be a possibility,” he said. ”Not that I ever cared much for it. My two games were polo and Rugby football.”

”I don't know about Rugby,” said Norah thoughtfully. ”But of course you'll play polo again. Some one was writing in one of the papers lately, saying that so many men had lost a leg in the war that the makers would have to invent special riding-legs, for hunting and polo.

I know very well that if Jim came home without a leg he'd still go mustering cattle, or know the reason why! And there was the case of an Irishman, a while ago, who had no legs at all--and he used to hunt.”

”By Jove!” said Hardress. ”Well, you cheer a fellow up, Miss Linton.”

”You see, I have Jim and Wally,” said Norah. ”Do you know Wally, by the way?”

<script>