He said suddenly: "Tim, I wish you luck. I'm glad anyway it isn't
Smyth's daughter. That was what I couldn't understand. Ever see
Smyth's daughter? No. Well, you needn't bemoan it. I dare say Miss
Parker is all you picture her, and I hope you'll win."
"Don't you think you'd better rest now?" asked Tim, with sudden
solicitation. Though he addressed himself to Weston, his eyes were
appealing to the doctor.
"I think I had," Weston answered, not waiting for the physician to
interpose any order. "I get tuckered out pretty easily these days,
with this confounded bullet-hole in me--but stay a moment, Tim.
They've got a letter from me at the office by this time. It may
surprise them; it may surprise you, but I wanted you to know I'd fixed
it all right for you, my boy. I did it for Edith's sake."
Tim, with face flushed and hands outstretched in protest, arose from
his chair and went to the bedside.
"But don't you see it's all a joke," he cried. "I can't take it.
Won't you believe me this time? There isn't any Edith!"
"I knew that long ago, Tim," Weston answered quietly.
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