"'All's fair in love and war,'" exulted the Skeptic, somewhat
breathlessly. It seemed to be a favourite maxim with him. I recalled his
having excused himself for eluding Dahlia by that same well-worn
proverb. "No--don't run! Have I become suddenly so terrifying?"
"Why should you be terrifying?" asked Hepatica. "Come and sit down and
tell us what you've all been doing while I was away."
Her back was toward me. There was a long window open close beside me. My
sympathy was with the Skeptic. I slipped through it.
An hour later I went out upon the porch again. Nobody was there. I sat
down alone, feeling half excited and half depressed, and wholly anxious
to know the outcome of the Skeptic's tactics. I waited a long time, as
it seemed to me. Then, without warning, a voice spoke. I could hardly
recognize it for the Skeptic's voice, it was strung so tense--with joy.
"Don't shoot," it said. "We'll come down."
I looked toward the end of the porch, where the vines cast a deep
shadow. I could not see them, but they must have been there all the
time.
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