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Page 39
"You're very good," muttered Winthrop. He could not
understand. This parting from her was the great moment in his
life, and although she must know that, she seemed to be making
it unnecessarily hard for him. He had told her he was going
to a place very far away, to be gone a long time, and she
spoke of saying "good-by" to him as pleasantly as though it
was his intention to return from Uganda for breakfast.
Instead of walking through the hall where the others were
gathered, she led him out through one of the French windows
upon the terrace, and along it to the steps. When she saw the
chauffeur standing by the car, she stopped.
"I thought you were going alone," she said.
"I am," answered Winthrop. "It's not Fred; that's Sam's
chauffeur; he only brought the car around."
The man handed Winthrop his coat and cap, and left them, and
Winthrop seated himself at the wheel. She stood above him on
the top step. In the evening gown of lace and silver she
looked a part of the moonlight night. For each of them the
moment had arrived. Like a swimmer standing on the bank
gathering courage for the plunge, Miss Forbes gave a
trembling, shivering sigh.
"You're cold," said Winthrop, gently. "You must go in.
Good-by."
"It isn't that," said the girl. "Have you an extra coat?"
"It isn't cold enough for----"
"I meant for me," stammered the girl in a frightened voice.
"I thought perhaps you would take me a little way, and bring
me back."
At first the young man did not answer, but sat staring in
front of him, then, he said simply:
"It's awfully good of you, Beatrice. I won't forget it."
It was a wonderful autumn night, moonlight, cold, clear and
brilliant. She stepped in beside him and wrapped herself in
one of his great-coats. They started swiftly down the avenue
of trees.
"No, not fast," begged the girl, "I want to talk to you."
The car checked and rolled forward smoothly, sometimes in deep
shadow, sometimes in the soft silver glamour of the moon;
beneath them the fallen leaves crackled and rustled under the
slow moving wheels. At the highway Winthrop hesitated. It
lay before them arched with great and ancient elms; below, the
Hudson glittered and rippled in the moonlight.
"Which way do you want to go?" said Winthrop.
His voice was very grateful, very humble.
The girl did not answer.
There was a long, long pause.
Then he turned and looked at her and saw her smiling at him
with that light in her eyes that never was on land or sea.
"To Uganda," said the girl.
End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of "The Scarlet Car"
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