Part 24 (1/2)
”Excuse a personal question; but have you got any cash?”
”A certain amount.”
”How much?”
”Oh, about five hundred roubles--and my cheque-book.”
”The cheque-book won't do you much good.” His comely, rather heavy face flushed. ”Look here I'm a banker at home----”
”Why, you're a major,” she retorted.
”So I am. But peace soldiering didn't suit me and I went into my father's business. I'm going to join up again when America fights--and she must.”
”I'm glad to hear that,” she said.
”Thanks. It'll take time--but it's coming. Why, if I thought we weren't going to help put an end to this desolation over here....”
He grew suddenly shy, and broke off. Then:
”Let me be your banker now.” He put a roll of notes into her hand.
”You'll be glad of it before you're through with Poland, believe me.”
She thanked him, prettily, so he thought. Her first impulse was to refuse the money. Then she reflected that they all might be glad of it one day. The American's kindness touched her, and she showed it; this flattered him. He had a susceptible heart and innate chivalry, inherited from Irish forebears.
”Oh--how am I to thank you?” she murmured, blus.h.i.+ng redder than he had been a moment before.
”By using it to get out of this desert as soon as you can,” he returned quickly. ”I hate to leave you here--in danger.”
”But there is none--yet. Look here, Major Healy, do let me give you a cheque on my London bank for it.”
He laughed.
”I told you cheques are no good in this country. We'll settle later on.
Remember to let me know if I can help. Good-bye and good luck.”
He strode down the long gallery, turned at the end, regretfully, waved his hand and was gone. Minnie went back to her patients, whom she tended with the help of two village women, and Zosia, the housekeeper.
The Countess had wounded soldiers in another part of the house.
XI
One spring morning the Countess came into the office where Ian was working, an open letter in her hand. He saw by her eyes that she had unpleasant news.
”A letter from Joseph,” she announced, sitting down by his desk, where he was busy with accounts. He looked up, his clear eyes hardened.
”What does he want?”
”He has a week's leave. He says that the six months are over, and wants----”