Duelling days were over, and the doctor was not
the man to shoot another down in cold blood, with no better excuse
than the poor things had given him. It was all very thrilling and
romantic. Even the girls talked of little else, and regarded their
complacent prosperous swains with disfavor. "The Long Long Weary Day"
was their favorite song. They wished that Madeleine lived in a moated
grange instead of the Occidental Hotel.
Madeleine had had her own room from the beginning of her married
life in San Francisco, as the doctor was frequently called out at
night. When Howard had returned and told her that Masters would leave
on the morrow and that she was not to see him again, she had walked
quietly into her bedroom and locked the door that led to his; and she
had never turned the key since.
Talbot made no protest. He had no spirit left where Madeleine was
concerned, but it was his humble hope to win her back by unceasing
devotion and consideration, aided by time. He not only never
mentioned Masters' name, but he wooed her in blundering male fashion.
Not a day passed that he did not send her flowers. He bought her
trinkets and several valuable jewels, and he presented her with a
victoria, drawn by a fine sorrel mare, and a coachman in livery on
the box.
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