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Page 33
"Oh, no. It was a phase of his student life in Munich. But he has
been under fire. He has had some hard luck." He wanted to add: "Poor
devil!"
She did not reply, but walked down the terrace steps to the path
leading to the orchard. The sturdy, warty old trees leaned toward the
west, the single evidence of the years of punishment received at the
hands of the winter sea tempests. It was a real orchard, composed of
several hundred trees, well kept, as evenly matched as might be, out of
weedless ground. From some hidden bough, a robin voiced his happiness,
and yellowbirds flew hither and thither, and there was billing and
cooing and nesting. Along the low stone wall a wee chipmunk scampered.
"What place do you like best in this beautiful old world?" she asked,
drawing down a snowy bough. Some of the blossoms fell and lay
entrapped in her hair.
"This," he answered frankly. She met his gaze quickly, and with
suspicion. His face was smiling, but not so his eyes. "Wherever I am,
if content, I like that place best. And I am content here."
"You fought with Greece?"
"Yes."
"How that country always rouses our sympathies! Isn't there a little
too much poetry and not enough truth about it?"
"There is. I fought with the Greeks because I disliked them less than
the Turks."
"And Mr. Breitmann?"
He smiled. "He fought with the Turks to chastise Greece, which he
loves."
"What adventures you two must have had! To be on opposing sides, like
that!"
"Opposing newspapers. The two angles of vision made our copy
interesting. There was really no romance about it. It was purely a
business transaction. We offered our lives and our pencils for a
hundred a week and our expenses. Rather sordid side to it, eh? And a
fourth-rate order or two--"
"You were decorated?" excitedly. "I am sure it was for bravery."
"Don't you believe it. The king of Greece and the sultan both
considered the honor conferred upon us as good advertising."
"You are laughing."
"Well, war in the Balkans is generally a laughing matter. Sounds
brutal, I know, but it is true."
"I know," gaily. "You are conceited, and are trying to make me believe
that you are modest."
"A bull's-eye!"
"And this Mr. Breitmann has been decorated for valor? And yet to-day
he becomes my father's private secretary. The two do not connect."
"May I ask you to mention nothing of this to him? It would embarrass
him. I had no business to bring him into it."
She grew meditative, brushing her lips with the blossoms. "He will be
something of a mystery. I am not overfond of mysteries outside of book
covers."
"There is really no mystery; but it is human for a man in his position
to wish to bury his past greatness."
By and by the sun touched the southwest shoulder of the hill, and the
two strolled back to the house.
From his window, Breitmann could see them plainly.
"Damn those scars!" he murmured, striking with his fist the disfigured
cheek, which upon a time had been a source of pride and honor. "Damn
them!"
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