“Yes, Pattie’s. That’s half of why I came—the other half, if you want to know, is because I’m fool enough to care more about you than any other man I ever met—than any other two men.”
The wide eyes were suddenly blue again.
“Thanks,” said the Honourable Tony, and there was something startlingly sweet in his smile. “Thanks awfully. It’s quite mutual, you know—any three men, I should say offhand. Suppose we simply let it go at that? And do try one of these cigarettes; they really are first-rate.”
“I can’t let it go at that, I tell you—I wish to the Lord I could. Pattie had it all out with Dad, and she made me swear that I’d run you down when I got out here and bring you back. She said that if I couldn’t work it any other way I was to tell you that she said ‘Please.’ I’m at the end of my rope, Calvert—and Pattie says ‘Please.’”
The Honourable Tony raised his hand sharply, staring through Pattie’s brother as though he saw someone else. Possibly he did see someone else—someone as clear and cool in that dim, hot room as a little spring, someone who stood there very small and straight with young Ledyard’s sandy hair clasping her brows like a wreath of autumn leaves, and young Ledyard’s gray eyes turned to two dancing stars, and young Ledyard’s freckles trailing a faint gold powder across the very tip of her tilted nose—someone as brave and honest as a little boy and as wistful and gentle as a little girl, who stood clasping her hands together tightly, and said “Please.”
“No, by God!” cried the Honourable Tony loudly. “No!”
“Don’t yell like that.” Ledyard rapped the words out fiercely. “I’m not deaf—all you have to say is ‘no’ once. If it’s any satisfaction to you to know it, I’m through.”
He rose to his feet and his host rose, too, swiftly, catching at his arm.
“Rather got the wind up, haven’t we, old thing? No, don’t jerk away; it’s simply rotten bad manners, and throws me off my stride completely when I’m preparing to do the thing in the grand manner—apologies, and amendes honorables and every mortal trick in the bag. You’re absolutely right, you know. It’s far too hot to start shouting, and I swear that I’ll keep quiet if you will. We might toss off a stirrup cup of quinine, what?”
“I believe that you’d laugh at a corpse,” said Ledyard fiercely.