Page:Middle Aged Love Stories (IA middleagedlove00bacorich).djvu/229



“Of course,” said the young man bitterly, “it is a good match—a fine match, You will have a beautiful home and everything you want.”

She put out her hands appealingly. “Oh, Jack, how can you hurt me so? You know I would live with you in a garret—on the plains—”

“Then do it.”

“I shall never hurt a person so terribly to whom I have freely given my word,” she said, with a touch of her old-time decision.

Colonel Driscoll felt his blood sweeping through his veins like wine. He was far too excited for finesse, too eager—and he had been so willing to wait, once!—for the next sweet moment when this almost tragedy should be resolved into its elements. He strode out into the open space in front of the little house.

“My dear young people,” he said, as they stared at him in absolute silence, “I am, I am—” He had intended to carry