Herman Cyril McNeile

“ Jack,” I answered, “I felt nervous when I saw you producing that frame. I have suffered before from lovers' rhapsodies, and my sole coherent thought was that it's lucky we don't all think alike. But this girl of yours strikes me as being the loveliest thing I've ever seen. You're a lucky devil.”
He looked at me quietly.
“Wait till you see her herself, Mark. She's a thousand times more lovely than this photograph.”
I smiled, and reached for the whisky bottle. ”

“ I went up the next day to lunch. It was a big house, standing in rather a lonely position. The grounds were well kept and extensive, and it was evident that Dryden had money. And a woman who could chuck Jack and marry Dryden for money must be pretty rotten. I'm afraid I didn't pay too much attention to the ruined father stunt; in fact, I had almost forgotten it. All I could think of was Jack sobbing his soul out as the night came down on his farm in Uganda.
And then I saw the girl. You know her, Dick, so I won't bore you with trying to describe her. ”

“ I had seen the announcement in the Times—scored and scored again by Jack with a thick blue pencil:—
Dryden: Carstairs.—On the 5th May, at the Old Parish Church, Okehampton, Herbert Dryden to Joan Carstairs, only daughter of Captain Carstairs, late of Royal Navy.
And I marvelled in my mind that such a girl as she had seemed to me from her picture could do such a thing.
At length his breathing grew quieter, and he slept. I didn't touch him or disturb him; it was better to let Nature have her way. Through all the dreary months ahead he'd have to suffer; let him sleep now and forget. ”

“ He laughed again discordantly, and began muttering to himself “'A fool there was, and he made his prayer.'”
“You haven't told me yet, Jack, what's happened,” I said, steadily. At all costs I had to calm him sufficiently to get his revolver away from him, and to do that I wanted to get close to him without making him suspicious. Jack Onslow was mad right enough, but only with drink, for he was usually an abstemious boy.
“Haven't I told you?” he snarled. “What a regrettable oversight! Well, I'll tell you now. This wonderful girl of mine has married another man. It's all quite in order ”

“ I'll tell it to you, Dick, in the form of a story—my first attempt at literary work. But they say that everyone could write at least one yarn—the yarn of their own life, so perhaps the fact that it is true will atone for lack of style. Anyway—here goes.
It's just eight years ago this month that I was up on a shooting trip in Uganda. And on the way back through British East Africa I went down with a bad dose of fever. Luckily for me, there was a farm close by, and my boys carried me there. That farm belonged to a youngster whom you got to know afterwards—Jack Onslow. ”

“ But since the end is coming fairly soon, I want to write to you, my oldest pal, and explain why I have cut myself adrift from you all these last few years. And also I want to put on record a confession which will come as a big surprise to you. In case anything should happen in the future you will have it by you, and will know what use to make of it. And apart from that, it's going to be a bit of a comfort to me to put it down on paper, and know that someone I trust will see it. One gets a bit cowardly towards the end—sometimes. Depends, I suppose, on the race you've run. ”