So much affected was I at the nature of poor Corey’s death that I almost forgot Mr. Ewing, sitting there across from me in our comfortable smoking-car, and that he might, in all decency, expect some comment from me. Indeed, I think I should have forgotten altogether if I had not felt after a little a relaxation of his long-continued gaze, and I knew he was going to speak.
“Why,” he said, “do you think he didn’t want her to know?”
So that was the thing which had puzzled him in New York, the thing which still puzzled him now.
Well, it had puzzled me, too; and I could give him no answer, except to confess that I didn’t know. But long after the train had passed through Dubuque, and Mr. Ewing and I had said good-by, an answer, perhaps right, perhaps wrong, presented itself to my mind.
If one followed Corey at all, one must follow him all the way; perhaps he had wished to save her the pang of an added disgrace.
[THE DARK HOUR]
By WILBUR DANIEL STEELE
From The Atlantic Monthly
Copyright, 1918, by The Atlantic Monthly Co.
Copyright, 1919, by Wilbur Daniel Steele.