A Young Man in a Hurry, and Other Short Stories

“Your sister!” he repeated, dazed. “My brother and your sister. And I am on my way to stop it; and you are on your way to stop it – ”

She began to laugh – not hysterically, but it was not a natural laugh.

“And,” he went on, “I’ve lost another sister in the shuffle, and you’ve lost another brother in the shuffle, and now there’s a double-shuffle danced by you and me – ”

“Don’t. Don’t!” she said, faint from laughter.

“Yes, I will,” he said. “And I’ll say more! I’ll say that Destiny is taking exclusive charge of our two families, and it would not surprise me if your brother and my sister were driving around New York together at this moment looking for us!”

Their laughter infected the entire dining-car; every waiter snickered; the enfant terrible grinned; the aged minister of the Church of England beamed a rapid fire of benedictions on them.

But they had forgotten everybody except each other.

“From what I hear and from what I know personally of your family,” she said, “it seems to me that they never waste much time about anything.”

“We are rather in that way,” he admitted. “I have been in a hurry from the time you first met me – and you see what my brother is going to do.”

“Going to do? Are you going to let him?”

“Let him?” He looked steadily at her, and she returned the gaze as steadily. “Yes,” he said, “I’m going to let him. And if I tried to stop him I’d get my deserts. I think I know my brother Jim. And I fancy it would take more than his brother to drag him away from your sister.” He hesitated a moment. “Is she like – like you?”

“A year younger – yes, we are alike… And you say that you are going to let him – marry her?”

“Yes – if you don’t mind.”

The challenge was in his eyes, and she accepted it.

“Is your brother Jim like you?”

“A year younger – yes… May he marry her?”

She strove to speak easily, but to her consternation she choked, and the bright color dyed her face from neck to hair.

This must not be: she must answer him. To flinch now would be impossible – giving a double meaning and double understanding to a badinage light as air. Alas! Il ne faut pas badiner avec l’amour! Then she answered, saying too much in an effort to say a little with careless and becoming courage.

“If he is like you, he may marry her… I am glad he is your brother.”

The answering fire burned in his face; she met his eyes, and twice her own fell before their message.

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, hot face between his hands; a careless attitude for others to observe, but a swift glance warned her what was coming – coming in a low, casual voice, checked at intervals as though he were swallowing.

“You are the most splendid girl I ever knew.” He dropped one hand and picked up a flower that had slipped from her finger-bowl. “You are the only person in the world who will not think me crazy for saying this. We’re a headlong race. Will you marry me?”

She bent her head thoughtfully, pressing her mouth to her clasped fingers. Her attitude was repose itself.

“Are you offended?” he asked, looking out of the window.

There was a slight negative motion of her head.

A party of assorted travellers rose from their table and passed them, smiling discreetly; the old minister across the aisle mused in his coffee-cup, caressing his shaven face with wrinkled fingers. The dining-car grew very still.

“It’s in the blood,” he said, under his breath; “my grandparents eloped; my father’s courtship lasted three days from the time he first met my mother – you see what my brother has done in twenty-four hours… We do things more quickly in these days… Please —please don’t look so unhappy!”

“I – I am not unhappy… I am willing to – hear you. You were saying something about – about – ”

“About love.”

“I – think so. Wait until those people pass!”

He waited, apparently hypnotized by the beauty of the car ceiling. Then: “Of course, if you were not going to be my sister-in-law to-morrow, I’d not go into family matters.”

“No, of course not,” she murmured.

So he gave her a brief outline of his own affairs, and she listened with bent head until there came the pause which was her own cue.

“Why do you tell me this?” she asked, innocently.

“It – it – why, because I love you.”

On common ground once more, she prepared for battle, but to her consternation she found the battle already ended and an enemy calmly preparing for her surrender.

“But when – when do you propose to – to do this?” she asked, in an unsteady voice.

“Now,” he said, firmly.

“Now? Marry me at once?”

“I love you enough to wait a million years – but I won’t. I always expected to fall in love; I’ve rather fancied it would come like this when it came; and I swore I’d never let the chance slip by. We’re a headlong family – but a singularly loyal one. We love but once in our lifetime; and when we love we know it.”

“Do you think that this is that one time?”

“There is no doubt left in me.”

“Then” – she covered her face with her hands, leaning heavily on the table – “then what on earth are we to do?”

“Promise each other to love.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, I do promise, forever. Do you?”

She looked up, pale as a ghost. “Yes,” she said.

“Then – please say it,” he whispered.

Some people rose and left the car. She sat apparently buried in colorless reverie. Twice her voice failed her; he bent nearer; and —

“I love you,” she said.