But when he returned to Fort Canibas, on the eve of his departure to
take up his duties as General Waymouth's chief of staff, he saddled his
horse and rode across the long bridge.
This time there was no white figure on the church porch and no wistful
voice to call after him. He kept on up the hill. He was not thinking
about what Dennis Kavanagh might say to him. He had resolved to ask
Clare manfully if she would continue to trust him for a while until both
could be certain that their boy and girl love signified to them the love
that life needed for its bounty and its blessing. That seemed the honest
way. It seemed the only way, as matters lay between them and their
families.
Dennis Kavanagh was seated on his veranda, smoking his short pipe and
inhaling the freshness of the shower-cooled summer air along with the
aroma of his tobacco.
"I would like to see your daughter, Mr. Kavanagh," announced the young
man, boldly. "And I have not come sneaking by the back way. It will be a
good while before I can see her again.
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