"If I thought you were using American slang, Miss Mellen, I should contradict you," he answered, with a touch of his old humor."I can remember at least one dark night when Kruger Bobs made an excellent showing."She nodded.
"We have bad a few Americans here before, Mr.Weldon.I think Iunderstand."
"How long have you been here?" he asked, after a pause.
"Ten weeks."
"And you like it?"
"Why else should I be here?"
"From a sense of duty."
"Is that what brought you out?"
"No.My coming was inevitable.It seemed a part of me that Icouldn't help."
"But you wished to come?" she queried.
"Of course.But that was only a Dart of it.I have wished to do things before, and have done them.This was quite different.It all seemed a part of Fate, and I walked through it, like a puppet with somebody else's hand pulling the strings." He paused and shook his head."It is no use.I can't make you understand it.I acted freely and did just what I chose; but yet, all the time, I felt as if it had all been arranged for me, whole generations ago."Thoughtfully she bent forward, straightened the coverings above his wounded leg; then sat up again.Then she shook her head a little regretfully.
"No," she said."I am afraid I don't understand.Perhaps it is because I am selfish; but I usually feel as if I made my plans, regardless of Fate.""What about our meeting here?" he asked quizzically.
She answered in the same tone.
"Wait until we see what comes out of it.Fate, if one believes in such a thing, only works in an endless chain.""And the broken links?"
"According to your notion, there should be none," she retorted.
"Fate ought to be a better workman than that.""Than what?"
"Than spoiling her work as she goes along.If there's any chain at all, it should be endless and durable.But a man with a Mauser hole in his leg and a fever in his head has no business to be talking of Fate.Let's talk about Ethel, instead."He settled himself back comfortably.
"Perhaps it amounts to the same thing, in the long run.""Perhaps.I don't see how, though.Anyway, Ethel wouldn't be pleased with the notion.She is absolutely independent, and generally arranges things according to her own sweet will.""Where is she now?"
"In Cape Town," Alice answered, quite unaware of her own lack of truth.
"And well?"
"Gloriously.In fact, as far as I can learn, Cooee always is well.
Just now she is having a wonderfully gay time.Since Lord Roberts went back to England, Cape Town has been full of people, resting there before sailing for home.""Resting?"
"Haven't they earned the right?" she questioned, in swift challenge to the quiet scorn in his tone.
"Even if the battles are over, the fighting isn't," he answered tersely."The glory doesn't lie entirely in the pulverizing the Boer army; there's a little left for the men who are sweeping up the pieces."Her trained eye saw the rising color in his face.Swiftly she changed the subject.
"Glory for all, enough and to spare," she replied."But, as I say, Cape Town is crowded with officers, lying up for repairs, and Ethel is queen bee among them.It's not only for herself; it is what you would call Fate.She happens to be the only girl of her set who is just out from London; she had met a good many of them there, and now she is holding a veritable salon.She even has one sacred teacup, set up on a high shelf ever since the day that Baden-Powell used it."Weldon smiled.
"Miss Dent is a hero-worshipper," he commented.
"So are we all, in certain directions.Moreover, most women like their heroes to have a little personality.One can't make one's admiration stick to a blank wall of impersonal perfection."Weldon's mind moved swiftly backwards to two blue, black-fringed eyes glowing out from a dust-streaked face.