ks. But, about his temper, do be discreet and forget
that I told tales. I supposed of course you knew it, knew it was bound
to come out now and then. He's got to have some sort of escape valve;
now all the more, since your father has shut down upon his smoking.
Really, Olive, that was beastly mean of him, I must say." Dolph turned
on her accusingly.
"I didn't know he had. Reed always has smoked, I know."
"It was only day before yesterday. I suppose you'd set him down a baby,
if I hinted that the water came into his eyes, while he was telling me.
Olive," Dolph flung out the question with a certain desperation; "for
God's sake, how long has this thing got to go on?"
"Dolph, I don't know."
"Doesn't your father ever say things?"
"Not of that sort. He never does. Besides, seeing Reed, as I do, almost
every day, it's better that I shouldn't know."
"But you must think," he urged. "Really, Olive, the thing is going on
all our nerves; anyhow, on mine. I can't see that great, strong fellow
lie there, all these eight months, and keep steady as he does, and come
to know him as I'm doing, know he has been, and is, more of a man than
most of us are ever likely to be: I can't watch him, I tell you, and
keep my grip on my sense of humour. I like Opdyke better than I like
most men; I'd miss him more than most. Still, Olive," and the face
above the fur-lined coat was suddenly grown grim; "watching him as I
do, I can't help feeling that it would have been a mercy, if only he
had been killed outright."
"Hush!" Olive turned upon him sternly; sternly she spoke. "That's not
for us to say, Dolph. There's a plan back of things, you know, and Reed
is only part of the plan."
There came a short silence. Then Dolph spoke, not angrily, yet with
decision.
"Olive, I think I am just a little bit ashamed of you for that. I'm
willing to be a fatalist, and say it was ordained from the beginning
that Opdyke must be flayed and hung up for the crows of time to pick;
but as for saying in a hushed voice that he is the especial object of
some wholly beneficent and divine plan, I can't do it, and I won't. A
thing like that would be enough to leave a trail of beastliness over
the whole mass of revealed religion; in the end it would turn one to a
veritable pagan. Is this the entrance to your bargain counter? Good
bye, then. And, for heaven's sake, remember that sometimes the personal
hurt of a thing may blind a man to the ultimate and underlyin
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