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Osbourne, Lloyd, 1868-1947

"Love, the Fiddler"

Forty-
two years old! Singular coincidence, in itself almost a bond
between them, that he, too, was of an identical age. Forty-two!
Why, it was called the prime of life. He inhaled a deep breath of
air; it was the prime of life; until then no one had really begun
to live!
"Why don't you say something?" said Quintan.
"I was just thinking how mistaken you were," returned Raymond.
"There must be hundreds of men who would be proud to win her
slightest regard; who, instead of considering her faded or old,
would choose her out of a thousand of younger women and would be
happy for ever if she would take--" He was going to say them, but
that sounded improper, and he changed it, at the cost of grammar,
to "him."
Quintan laughed at his companion's vehemence, and the subject
passed and gave way to another about shrapnel. But he did not
fail, later on, to carry a humorous report of the conversation to
his aunt.
"What have you been doing to my old quartermaster?" he said.
"Hasn't the poor fellow enough troubles as it is, without falling
in love with you! He can't talk of anything else, and blushes like
a girl when he mentions your name. He told me yesterday he was
willing to die for a woman like you."
"I think he's a dear, nice fellow," said Miss Latimer, "and if he
wants to love me he can. It will keep him out of mischief!"
Raymond saw a great deal of Miss Latimer in the month before they
sailed south. Quintan took him constantly to the house, where, in
his capacity of humble and devoted comrade, the tall quartermaster
was always welcome and made much of.


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