A Soldier of the Legion

								

"Oh, she'll be surprised at first," Max had to admit. "You see, she's so
young herself and such a great beauty, it must be hard for her to
realize she's got a son who has grown up to be a man. I used to think
she was the most exquisite creature on earth, but now----"
His words broke off, and he looked up from the gleaming line of
gold-and-black lashes. An orderly had come quickly and almost
noiselessly to him. "For you, Lieutenant," the man announced with a
salute, holding out a telegram.
"May I?" murmured Doran, and perfunctorily opened the envelope.
Billie went on gazing at the ring. She was faintly annoyed at the delay,
for she was anxious to see how the blue diamond would look on her
finger, and Max had asked to wish it on. The lights in the stone were so
fascinating, however, that for an instant she forgot the interruption.
Then, sensitive to all that was dramatic, something in the quality of
Max Doran's silence struck her. She felt suddenly surrounded by a
chilling atmosphere which seemed to shut her and Max away from the
dancers, away from music and life, as if a thick glass case had been let
down over them both. She glanced up quickly. No wonder she had felt so
cold. Doran's face looked frozen. His eyes were still fixed on the
telegram, though there had been time for him to read it over and over
again. He was so lost in the news it had brought that he had forgotten
even her--forgotten her in the moment when she had been consenting to a
formal engagement, she, the illusive, the vainly desired one, run after
just to the foot of her unclimbable mountain by the nimblest, the
richest, everywhere!
Her small soul was stirred to resentment. She wanted to punish Max Doran
for daring to neglect her at such a time, even for a few seconds; but a
half-angry, half-frightened study of the dark, absorbed face changed her
mood. No man could look like that unless something awful had happened.
What, that was awful, could happen to Max Doran? Why, he could lose all
his money!
Billie's heart leaped, and then seemed to fall back heavily in the
lovely bosom sheathed like a lily with a film of sparkling dew. Would he
ever speak? She could not wait. Besides, it was right to be sympathetic.
"Max, what is it--dear Max?" she whispered in the honey-sweet voice of
Gaëta in "Girls' Love."
He started, and waked up. "It's my mother. She's been hurt," he said.
"My God, I must go at once!"
Almost, Billie sighed out her intense relief in words; but she had just
presence of mind and self-control enough to hold them back. Gently she
took the telegram from him, and he let her do it. Meanwhile, however,
she had slipped the ring on to her own finger--but not the engaged
finger. Evidently this was no time for an announcement, or
congratulations and sensations. But it was just as well to have the blue
diamond safe on one's hand, even if it were the right hand instead of