"Fortunately it's a Mick regiment, so we needn't worry over who was
killed."
Leonore thought to herself: "You are as bad every bit as Podds!" Aloud
she said, "Did it say who were killed?"
"No. The dispatch only said fourteen dead."
"That was a beautiful shot," said Leonore. "You ought to run the game
out with that position. I think, papa, that I'll go to bed. I find I'm a
little tired. Good-night, Mr. Vaughan." Leonore went upstairs, slowly,
deep in thought. She did not ring for her maid. On the contrary she lay
down on her bed in her dinner-gown, to its everlasting detriment. "I
know he isn't hurt," she said, "because I should feel it. But I wish the
telegram had said." She hardly believed herself, apparently, for she
buried her head in the pillow, and began to sob quietly. "If I only had
said good-bye," she moaned.
Early the next morning Watts found Leonore in the hall.
"How pale my Dot is!" he exclaimed.
"I didn't sleep well," said Leonore.
"Aren't you going to ride with me?"
"No.
Pages:
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732