The Parlor Car | Page 8

into the smoking-car. Shall I send the porter to you for anything?"
MISS GALBRAITH: "No, thanks." She puts up her handkerchief to her face.
MR. RICHARDS: "Lucy, do you send me away?"
MISS GALBRAITH, behind her handkerchief: "You were going, yourself."
MR. RICHARDS, over his shoulder: "Shall I come back?"
MISS GALBRAITH: "I have no right to drive you from the car."
MR. RICHARDS, coming back, and sitting down in the chair nearest her: "Lucy, dearest, tell me what's the matter."
MISS GALBRAITH: "O Allen! your not KNOWING makes it all the more hopeless and killing. It shows me that we MUST part; that you would go on, breaking my heart, and grinding me into the dust as long as we lived." She sobs. "It shows me that you never understood me, and you never will. I know you're good and kind and all that, but that only makes your not understanding me so much the worse. I do it quite as much for your sake as my own, Allen."
MR. RICHARDS: "I'd much rather you wouldn't put yourself out on my account."
MISS GALBRAITH, without regarding him: "If you could mortify me before a whole roomful of people, as you did last night, what could I expect after marriage but continual insult?"
MR. RICHARDS, in amazement: "HOW did I mortify you? I thought that I treated you with all the tenderness and affection that a decent regard for the feelings of others would allow. I was ashamed to find I couldn't keep away from you."
MISS GALBRAITH: "Oh, you were ATTENTIVE enough, Allen; nobody denies that. Attentive enough in non-essentials. Oh, yes!"
MR. RICHARDS: "Well, what vital matters did I fail in? I'm sure I can't remember."
MISS GALBRAITH: "I dare say! I dare say they won't appear vital to you, Allen. Nothing does. And if I had told you, I should have been met with ridicule, I suppose. But I knew BETTER than to tell; I respected myself too MUCH."
MR. RICHARDS: "But now you mustn't respect yourself QUITE so much, dearest. And I promise you I won't laugh at the most serious thing. I'm in no humor for it. If it were a matter of life and death, even, I can assure you that it wouldn't bring a smile to my countenance. No, indeed! If you expect me to laugh, now, you must say something particularly funny."
MISS GALBRAITH: "I was not going to say anything funny, as you call it, and I will say nothing at all, if you talk in that way."
MR. RICHARDS: "Well, I won't, then. But do you know what I suspect, Lucy? I wouldn't mention it to everybody, but I will to you--in strict confidence: I suspect that you're rather ashamed of your grievance, if you have any. I suspect it's nothing at all."
MISS GALBRAITH, very sternly at first, with a rising hysterical inflection: "Nothing, Allen! Do you call it NOTHING, to have Mrs. Dawes come out with all that about your accident on your way up the river, and ask me if it didn't frighten me terribly to hear of it, even after it was all over; and I had to say you hadn't told me a word of it? 'Why, Lucy!'"--angrily mimicking Mrs. Dawes, "'you must teach him better than that. I make Mr. Dawes tell me everything.' Little simpleton! And then to have them all laugh--Oh, dear, it's too much!"
MR. RICHARDS: "Why, my dear Lucy" -
MISS GALBRAITH, interrupting him: "I saw just how it was going to be, and I'm thankful, THANKFUL that it happened. I saw that you didn't care enough for me to take me into your whole life; that you despised and distrusted me, and that it would get worse and worse to the end of our days; that we should grow farther and farther apart, and I should be left moping at home, while you ran about making confidantes of other women whom you considered WORTHY of your confidence. It all FLASHED upon me in an INSTANT; and I resolved to break with you, then and there; and I did, just as soon as ever I could go to my room for your things, and I'm glad,--yes,--Oh, hu, hu, hu, hu, hu!--SO glad I did it!"
MR. RICHARDS, grimly: "Your joy is obvious. May I ask" -
MISS GALBRAITH: "Oh, it wasn't the FIRST proof you had given me how little you really cared for me, but I was determined it should be the last. I dare say you've forgotten them! I dare say you don't remember telling Mamie Morris that you didn't like embroidered cigar- cases, when you'd just TOLD me that you did, and let me be such a fool as to commence one for you; but I'm thankful to say THAT went into the fire,--oh, yes, INSTANTLY! And I dare say you've forgotten that you didn't tell me your