IX
THE DECISION
I was sitting alone in the library late that night when Courtney came in. He had been to some function at the French Embassy, from which I had begged off, and seemed surprised to see me.
"Taps are a bit late to-night," he remarked, pouring a measure of Scotch and shooting in the soda.
"I've been thinking," I answered.
"For Heaven's sake. Major," he began—then put down his glass and looked at me curiously.
"You were about to say?" I questioned.
He glanced at the clock. "When a man of your age sits up thinking until two in the morning it is either financial trouble or love."
"My finances are all right," I volunteered.