Burned Bridges by Bertrand W. Sinclair (bearly read books txt) 📕

I Were A Man."

 

One Small,  Soft Hand,  Outstretched Over The Chair-Arm Toward The Fire,

Shut Suddenly Into A Hard Little Fist. And For A Moment Thompson Felt

Acutely Uncomfortable,  Without Knowing Why.

 

Carr Eyed His Daughter Impassively. In A Few Seconds She Went On.

 

"Of Course I Know That In Any Large Army There Is Bound To Be A Certain

Percentage Of Abnormals Who Will Be Up To All Sorts Of Deviltry Whenever

They Find Themselves Free Of Direct Restraint," She Said. "The History

Of Warfare Shows That. But This Belgian Woman's Account Puts A

Different Face On Things. These Unmentionable Brutalities Weren't

Isolated Cases. Her Story Gave Me The Impression Of Ordered Barbarity,

Of Systematic Terrorizing By The Foulest Means Imaginable. The Sort Of

Thing The Papers Have Been Publishing--And Worse."

 

"Discount That,  Sophie," Carr Remarked Calmly. "The Germans Are Reckoned

In The Civilized Scale The Same As Ourselves. I'm Not Ready To Damn

Sixty-Five Million Human Beings Outright Because Certain Members Of The

Group Act Like Brutes. The Chances Are That A German Soldier Would Be

Shot By His Own Command,  For Robbery Or Rape Or Any Of These

Chapter 16 ( The Renewed Triangle) Pg 117

Brutalities,  As Promptly As One Of Our Own Offenders. The Fact Of The

Matter Is That There Are A Lot Of Hysterical People Loose Among Us Who

Seem To Think They Can Kill German Soldiers By Calling Them Bad Names.

The Allies Will Win This War With Cannon And Bayonets,  But Up To The

Present We Seem To Think We Must Supplement Our Bullets With Epithets.

Doubtless The Germans Do The Same At Home. It's Part Of The Game."

 

"Oh,  I Suppose So," Sophie Admitted. "But What A Horror This War Must Be

For Those Helpless People Who Are Caught In Its Sweep."

 

"If It Affects You Like That,  Be Thankful It Isn't Over Here," Carr Said

Lightly. "War Is All That Sherman Said It Was. As A Matter Of Fact

Modern Warfare With Every Scientific And Chemical Means Of Destruction

At Its Hand Can't Result In Anything But Horror Piled On Horror. I Look

For Some Startling--"

 

The Faint Whirr Of A Buzzer And The Patter Of A Maid's Feet Along The

Hall,  Checked Carr's Speech. He Did Not Resume. Instead He Reached For A

Box Of Cigars,  And Lighted One. By That Time Tommy Ashe Was Being

Ushered In.

 

Tommy Exuded Geniality From Every Pore Of His Ruddy Countenance. He

Accepted The Drink Carr Rose To Offer. He Lifted The Glass And Smiled At

Thompson.

 

"Here's To Success," He Toasted. "I Believe," He Went On Between Sips Of

Wine,  "That Things Are Going To Look Up Finely For Us. I Sold A Truck

And Two Touring Cars This Afternoon. People Seem To Be Loosening Up For

Some Reason. You Ought To Get Your Share With The Summit,  Wes. Snappy

Little Machine,  That."

 

"You Rising Business Men," Carr Drawled,  "Want To Learn To Leave Your

Business At The Office When You Come To My House. Now,  We Were Just

Discussing The War. What Sort Of A Prophet Are You,  Tommy? How Long Will

It Last? Sophie Was Wondering If It Would Be Over Before All The

Eligible Young Men Depart Across The Sea."

 

"Well," Tommy Grinned Cheerfully,  "I'm No Prophet. Not Being In The

Confidence Of The Allied Command,  I Can't Say. I'd Hazard A Guess,

Though,  That There'll Be Plenty Of Good Men Left For Sophie To Make A

Choice Among. I Can Pass On Another Man's Prophecy,  Though. Had A Letter

From One Of My Brothers Yesterday. He Was At Mons,  Got Pinked In The

Leg,  And Is Now Training Territorials. He Is Sure The Grand Finale Will

Come About Midsummer Next. The Way He Put It Sounds Logical. Neither

Side Can Make Headway This Winter. Germany Has Made Her Maximum Effort.

If She Couldn't Beat Us When She Took The Field Equipped To The Last

Button She Never Can. By Spring We'll Be Organized. France And England

On The West Front. The Russian Steam Roller On The East. The Fleet

Maintaining The Blockade. They Can't Stand The Pressure. It Isn't

Possible. The Hun--Confound Him--Will Blow Up With A Loud Bang About

Next July. That's Ned's Say-So,  And These Line Officers Are Pretty

Conservative As A Rule. War's Their Business,  And They Don't Nurse

Illusions About It."

 

"In The Meantime,  Let's Talk About Selling Automobiles,  Or The Weather,

Anything But The War," Sophie Said Suddenly. She Pressed A Button On The

Wall. "We're Going To Drink Tea And Forget The War," She Continued

Almost Defiantly. "I Won't Ask Either Of You To Stay For Dinner,  Because

Chapter 16 ( The Renewed Triangle) Pg 118

I'm Going Out."

 

Carr's House Sat On A Slope That Dipped Down To A Long Narrow Park,  And

Beyond That To A Beach On Which Slow Rollers From The Outside Broke With

A Sound Like The Snore Of A Distant Giant. Along That Slope And Away To

The Eastward The City Was Speckled With Lights,  Although It Was Barely

Five O'clock,  So Early Does Dark Close In In That Latitude When The Year

Is Far Spent. And When The Maid Trundled In A Tea-Wagon,  That Vista Of

Twinkling Specks,  And The More Distant Flash Of Point Atkinson Light

Intermittently Stabbing The Murky Gulf,  Was Shut Away By Drawn Blinds,

And The Four Of Them Sat In The Cosy Room Eating Little Cakes And

Drinking Tea And Chatting Lightly Of Things That Bulked Smaller Than The

War.

 

Presently Sam Carr Drew Tommy Away To The Library To Look Up Some Legal

Technicality Over Which They Had Fallen Into Dispute. Sophie Lay Back

In Her Chair,  Eyes Fixed On The Red Glow Of The Embers As If She Saw

Through Them And Into Vast Distances Beyond.

 

And Thompson Sat Covertly Looking At Her Profile,  The Dull Gold Of Her

Coiled Hair,  The Red-Lipped Mouth That Was Made For Kisses And

Laughter--And He Was Glad Just To Look At Her,  To Be Near. For He Was

Beginning To Say To Himself That It Was No Good Fighting Against Fate,

That This Girl Had Put Some Spell On Him From Which He Would Never Be

Wholly Free. Nor Did He,  In That Mood,  Desire To Be Free. He Wanted That

Spell To Grow So Strong That In The End It Would Weave Itself About Her

Too,  Make Love Beget Love. There Was Quickening In Him Again That Desire

To Pursue,  To Conquer,  To Possess. The Ego In Him Whispered That Once

For A Moment Sophie Had Rested Like A Homing Bird In His Arms,  And

Would,  Again. But He Was Not To Be Betrayed By Headlong Impulse. The

Time Was Not Yet. Instinct Warned Him That In Some Fashion,  Vague,

Unrevealed,  He Had Still To Prove Himself To Sophie Carr. He Was Aware

Intuitively That She Weighed Him In The Balance Of Cold,  Critical

Reason,  Against Any Emotional Appeal--Just As He,  Himself,  Was Learning

To Weigh Things And Men. He Did Not Know This. He Only Felt It. But He

Felt Sure Of His Instinct Where She Was Concerned.

 

And So He Was Content,  For The Time,  With The Privilege Of Being Near

Her. Some Day--

 

Sophie Looked At Him. For The Moment His Own Gaze Had Wandered From Her

To The Fire,  His Mind Yielding Tentatively To Rose-Tinted Visions.

 

"A Penny For Your Thoughts," She Said Lightly.

 

"I Was Thinking Of You," He Answered Truthfully.

 

He Looked Up As He Spoke And His Heart Leaped At The Faint Flush That

Rose Slowly Over Sophie's Face. Indeed All The High Resolve That Had

Been Shaping In His Soul For The Past Ten Minutes Came Near Going By The

Board. It Would Have Been So Easy To Imprison The Hand That Lay Along

The Chair-Arm Next His Own,  To Utter Words That Trembled On His Tongue,

To Break Through The Ice That Sophie Used As A Shield--For The Instant

He Felt Sure Of That--And Dare What Fires Burned Beneath.

 

Chapter 16 ( The Renewed Triangle) Pg 119

While He Stood,  Poised As It Were,  Upon The Tip-Toe Of Indecision,  Carr

And Tommy Ashe Came Back.

 

Afterward,  On His Way Home,  Thompson Wondered At The Swift Challenging

Glance Tommy Shot At Sophie In That Moment. As If Tommy Detected Some

Tensity Of Feeling That He Resented.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 17 (The Renewed Triangle) Pg 120

That Winter And The Summer Which Followed,  And The Period Which Carried

Him Into The Spring Of 1916,  Was Materially A Triumphal Procession For

Wes Thompson. Tommy's Forecast Of The War's Ending Had Fallen Short As

So Many Other Forecasts Did. The War Went On,  Developing Its Own

Particular Horrors As It Spread. But The Varying Tides Of War,  And The

Manifold Demands Of War,  Bestowed Upon Vancouver A Heaping Measure Of

Prosperity,  And Vancouver,  In The Person Of Its Business Men,  Was Rather

Too Far From The Sweat And Blood Of The Struggle To Be Distracted By The

Issues Of That Struggle From Its Own Immediate Purposes. Business Men

Were In Business To Make Money. They Supported The War Effort. Every One

Could Not Go To The Trenches. Workers Were As Necessary To Victory As

Fighters. People Had To Be Fed And Clothed. The Army Had To Be Fed And

Clothed,  Transported And Munitioned. And The Fact That The Supplying And

Equipping And Transporting Was Highly Profitable To Those Engaged In

Such Pursuits Did Not Detract From The Essentially Patriotic And

Necessary Performance Of These Tasks.

 

The Effect On Vancouver Was An Industrial Rejuvenation. Money Flowed In

All Sorts Of Channels Hitherto Nearly Dry. A Lot Of It Flowed To Wesley

Thompson In Exchange For Summit Cars. Thompson Was Like Many Other Men

In Vancouver. He Was Very Busy. The Business Stood On Its Feet By