The light in his eyes and the zest of his chatter with
her told their own story. He left her at her home with a regret that he
did not hide from her.
And yet, when he was at last in his room at the hotel that night, he
wrote to Clare Kavanagh the longest letter of all those he had written
to her since he left Fort Canibas.
It might have been because he had so much to write about.
It might have been because a strange little feeling of compunction
bothered him.
But Harlan did not have the courage to examine his sentiments too
closely. Only, after he had sealed the letter and inscribed it, he lay
back in his chair awhile, and then, having reflected that after three
weeks he would no longer be his own man, he decided that he'd better run
up to Fort Canibas and attend to his business interests.
And he departed hastily the next morning, in spite of the Duke's puzzled
and rather indignant protests that business wasn't suffering beyond what
the telephone and mails could cure, and that he himself would go home
the next week and see to everything.
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