“You have no waiting women with you?” Sir John asked. “I suppose this young American lady will be along.”
“I’ll go gladly,” said Josie.
“And Dr. Evans will come also?”
“If the Empress likes I will be glad to. Dr. Pilgrim will take care of my affairs in Paris.”
“I am afraid there is slight accommodation on board,” he said politely to Tib.
“I must go back,” Tib said, but the others could not help noticing the slight expression of regret in his and Josie’s faces.
“When will you be back in Paris?” Tib said to her quickly. “I expect to be there for several months representing the Richmond Times-Dispatch, the Danville News and the Lynchburg Courier.”
“I’ll be back soon if you keep the peace,” said Josie.
When they left the quays there had been a restive curious crowd gathering.
“We are putting to sea immediately though I look for a rough crossing,” Sir John said.
The Empress Eugenie, distraught and grief-stricken, was distributing louis d’or to the sailors.
“And these two young Americans must have a souvenir also.”
She took two matched bracelets from her wrists, handing one to Tib and one to Dr. Pilgrim.
“You two men have looked at each other sometimes as though you had some quarrel. In memory of your great help to me and for the sake of pretty Josie will you not forget it all forever? I should like to feel that I had done some good during these days when you have been so good to me.”
“Our quarrel is over so far as I’m concerned,” said Tib.
The two younger men started back toward shore in the dinghy and the hands that waved to them from the yacht as they gradually lost sight of it in the growing dark were like a symbol that the cruelty of a distant time was receding with every stroke of the oars into a dimmer and dimmer past.
Written in 1936, an early version of “The End of Hate” story.
