Kitabı oku: «Маленькая хозяйка большого дома / The Little Lady Of The Big House», sayfa 12
“One cigar, sir!”
“A box! A box!”
9
Dick had started a gambling game. It went on at a big table at the far end of the room, accompanied by much owing and borrowing of small sums.
With nine players, the game was crowded, and Graham, with a profound sigh at the loss of his last bet—a nickel—announced that he was going to take a turn around the room to change his luck. He wanted to see Paula.
At this point, Ernestine told Graham:
“We’re all waiting for you. You and I are partners. Besides, Paula’s going to sleep. So say good night, and let her go.”
Paula had left for bed at ten o’clock. Dick said good night to Graham and continued on with his pretty sister-in-law toward her quarters.
“Just a tip, Ernestine,” he said at parting, his voice was serious to warn her.
“What have I done?” she pouted laughingly.
“Nothing … as of yet. But don’t get started. You’re only a kid yet—eighteen; and a nice, likable kid. Enough to make any man sit up and take notice. But Evan Graham is not any man—”
“Oh, I can take care of myself,” she blurted out in a fling of quick resentment.
“But listen to me. There comes a time for a girl when she mustn’t make a mistake and start in loving the wrong man. You haven’t fallen in love with Evan Graham yet, and all you have to do is just not to fall in love with him. He’s not for you, nor for any young girl. He’s an oldster, an ancient, and possibly has forgotten more about love, romantic love, and young things, than you’ll ever learn in a dozen lives. If he ever marries again—”
“Again!” Ernestine broke in.
“Why, he’s been a widower, my dear, for over fifteen years.”
“Then what of it?” she demanded defiantly.
“Just this,” Dick continued quietly. “The fact is that in fifteen years he has not married again. It means—”
“That he’s never recovered from his loss?” Ernestine interpolated. “But that’s no proof—”
“—Means all you have to do is look at him,” Dick held on steadily, “and realize that some very fine women, real wise women, mature women, have tested his endurance. But so far they’ve not succeeded in catching him. Think it over, dear.”
He took one of her hands in his, and drew her against him.
“You know, wehard-bitten57 old fellows—” he began half-apologetically, half-humorously.
But she made a restless movement of distaste, and cried out:
“The young men are all youngsters, and that’s all. They’re full of life, and spirits, and dance, and song. But they’re not serious. They’re not big. They’re not—oh, they don’t give a girl that sense of proven strength, of, of … well, of manhood.”
“I understand,” Dick murmured. “But please do not forget to glance at the other side. Life is something to be learned. But young girls like you, Ernestine, have you learned any of it yet?”
