In her own mind she was reviewing all the men who with her had sought to
throw off the mantle of the Platonic and invest themselves in the more
romantic habiliments of courtship. One lesson had been taught her from
the first, and she had learned it thoroughly--too thoroughly! She was no
ordinary girl to give way to unwise throbbing of the pulses. Her future
must run side by side with brilliant things and brilliant men.
It takes experience to teach distrust to those frolicsome playmates,
Youth and Buoyancy. She had met with that experience and had learned
that fortune-hunters are by no means mythical or extinct. When to the
honey-pot of wealth is added the lure of beauty, how can one be sure
that any proffered love is free from the taint of greed? Her brother was
one of America's most brilliant money-getters. He gathered in and
disbursed with a lavish magnificence. She had been called the most
beautiful woman in Europe and her gem-like brilliancy had been set in
Life's gold and platinum of environment. When Cupid came to her what
bill of health could he produce to prove that he was not a sneak-thief
in disguise? She had accepted the cynical conclusion that she might
never be sure of any man's love and the tenderer little heart-nerves
which govern impulse were growing numb. Under a naive freshness and
girlish fragrance of personality, lay masked batteries of distrust and
hardness. The Duke de Metuan fancied himself genuinely in love with her.
Of that she was sure, but should the Duke de Metuan learn tomorrow
morning that she had overnight become penniless--she broke off and
laughed.
And tonight had come the unwarned tumult of feeling against which she
possessed no argument. Jefferson Edwardes had looked at her and his eyes
were a guarantee of honesty beyond question. She did not even ask to see
the Love God's passport. This man was a member of a great family of
bankers; a family that had stood for generations among the richest in
the country. Ham's magic control of the money tides could not even
subconsciously influence his decisions.
It was wonderful to sit there in the window, adrift on a tide of
elation, and to know that the numbness of her heart was not a permanent
paralysis--that she had a soul. It was absurdedly delightful, too, to
reflect upon the illogical swiftness with which it had all happened.
"Tomorrow," she announced to herself, nodding her head very decisively,
"I shall be furious with him. I shall refuse to speak to him. I shall
let him realize that such lordly assumption brings swift retribution."
Then, low and gaily, she laughed. "After I've punished him I'll be very
nice to him, unless--" her lips tightened as she added--"unless he says
he's sorry he did it and apologizes. If he does that I'll never speak to
him again."
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account