He endeavored to laugh her off, and then tried subterfuge, and
lastly he cast off his mask and let her see his naked soul.
"Carley, I don't want your money or that of your kind friends--whoever they
are--you say will help me to get into business," he said. "God knows I
thank you and it warms me inside to find some one who appreciates what I've
given. But I don't want charity. . . . And I guess I'm pretty sick of the
game. I'm sorry the Boches didn't do the job right."
"Rust, that is morbid talk," replied Carley. "You're ill and you just can't
see any hope. You must cheer up--fight yourself; and look at the brighter
side. It's a horrible pity you must be a cripple, but Rust, indeed life can
be worth living if you make it so."
"How could there be a brighter side when a man's only half a man--" he
queried, bitterly.
"You can be just as much a man as ever," persisted Carley, trying to smile
when she wanted to cry.
"Could you care for a man with only one leg?" he asked, deliberately.
"What a question! Why, of course I could!"
"Well, maybe you are different. Glenn always swore even if he was killed no
slacker or no rich guy left at home could ever get you. Maybe you haven't
any idea how much it means to us fellows to know there are true and
faithful girls.
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