“Because,” was the doleful reply, “those two are just like orphan sisters together, and–well, she won’t desert. She is a queen, by God, sir! Miss Jacqueline might make her, but I haven’t got the heart to ask it. Now, uh, if–if you would just bring along the other one?”
So, here was the goal of all of Daniel’s manœuvering!
Driscoll cast a leg over the pommel of his saddle, and faced Boone squarely. “Shanks,” he demanded with tense vehemence, “do you suppose I need your woes for a prod? Don’t you know how much–Lord A’mighty, how much!–I’d like to oblige you? But–she won’t let me–even speak. There’s, there’s something the matter.”
Boone’s lank jaw fell. “What, I wonder?”
“And don’t I wonder too?” Driscoll muttered savagely. “But it’s something.”
From which moment until the end of the journey, and afterward, 505there were two men who pondered on what could be the trouble with Jacqueline. But while one pondered gloomily and fiercely and with a semi-comic grin under the lash, the other let perplexity delve and ferret into the mystery. For Mr. Boone had grown aware that an enormous heap of happiness for four depended on himself alone.
506CHAPTER XXIV
The Journalistic Sagacity of a Daniel
“Ah, my Belovèd, fill the cup that clears
To-day of past Regret and future Fears.”
–Omar.