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Locke, William John, 1863-1930

"The Red Planet"

I shouldn't like to leave you with the smallest little bit
of a wrong impression."
"What wrong impression could I possibly have?" I asked
disingenuously.
"You might think that I was still in love with him."
"That would be absurd," said I.
"Utterly absurd. I should feel it to be almost an insult if you
thought anything of the kind. Long before my marriage things that
had happened had killed all such feelings outright." She paused
for a few seconds and her brow darkened, just as it had done when
she had spoken of him in the days immediately preceding her
marriage with Willie Connor. Presently it cleared. "The whole
beginning and end of my present feelings," she continued, "is that
I'm glad the man I once cared for has won such high distinction,
and I'm sorry that such a brave soldier should be wounded."
I could do nothing else than assure her of my perfect
understanding. I upbraided myself as a monster of indelicacy for
my touch of doubt before dinner; also for a devilish and malicious
suspicion that flitted through my brain while she was cataloguing
her possible reasons for putting on the old evening dress. The
thought of Betty's beautiful arm and the man's bull-neck was a
shivering offence.


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