"I think I must say
good-by now, Miss Guion--"
"No; wait," Ashley commanded. "This matter concerns you, by Jove!"
Olivia sprang to her feet. "No; it doesn't, Rupert," she said, hastily.
"No; it doesn't," Davenant repeated after her. "It's not my affair. I
decline to be brought into it. I think I must say good-by now, Miss
Guion--"
"Listen, will you!" Ashley said, impatiently. "I'm not going to say
anything either of you need be afraid of. I'm only asking you to do me
the justice of trying to see things from my point of view. You may think
it forced or artificial or anything you please; but unfortunately, as an
officer and a gentleman, I've got to take it. The position you'd put me
in would be this--of playing a game--and a jolly important game at
that--in which the loser loses to me on purpose."
Ashley found much satisfaction in this way of putting it. Without
exposing him to the necessity of giving details, it made clear his
perception of what was going on. Moreover, it secured him _le beau
role_, which for a few minutes he feared he might have compromised. In
the look he caught, as it flashed between Olivia and Davenant, he saw
the signs of that appreciation he found it so hard to do without--the
appreciation of Rupert Ashley as the chivalrous Christian gentleman, at
once punctilious and daring, who would count all things as loss in order
to achieve the highest type of manhood.
Pages:
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314