"God grant she doesn't come to regret it," said Drake, thinking of his
wife. His anger made him careless of what he said. "Tom, mark my words,
if ever this precious Duke comes to me for money--as, mark my words, he
will--I'll make him get down on his knees for all his superciliousness,
and turn somersaults like a trick dog. Yes, by heaven, I will!"
Bojo was silent, not knowing what to say, and Drake finally perceived
it.
"It isn't Dolly's fault," he said apologetically. "She's a good sort.
This isn't her doing. There was a time when her mother-- Well, I'll say
no more. Nasty business! Tom, I'll bless the day when I see Doris safe
with you, married to a decent American." He took a turn or two and said
abruptly, trying to convey more than he expressed: "Don't wait too long.
It's a bad atmosphere, all this--there are influences--it isn't fair to
the girl, to Doris. Money be damned! I'll see you never have to ask your
wife for pocket money. No, I won't present it to you. We'll make it
together. There are a lot of buzzards sitting around here to-night,
calculating I'm loaded up to the brim and ready for a plucking. Well,
Tom, I'm going to fool them. I'm going to make them pay for the
wedding."
The idea struck him. He burst out laughing. His eyes snapped with a
sudden project.
"Here," he said, clapping Bojo on the shoulder. "Forget what you've
heard. Go in and take a look at Doris. She's a sight for tired eyes." He
held his hand. "Are you willing to risk your money with me--go it blind,
eh?"
"Every cent I have, Mr. Drake," said Bojo, drawn to him by the dramatic
sympathies the older man knew how to arouse; "only I don't want any
favors. If we lose I lose."
"We won't lose," said Drake and, drawing Bojo's arm under his, he added:
"Come on. I've got to get a smile on my face. So here goes."
Bojo found Doris in the corner of the ballroom assiduously surrounded by
a black-coated hedge of young men. He had a moment's thrill at the sight
of her, radiant and dazzling with every art of dressmaker and
hairdresser, revealed in a sinuous arrangement of black chiffon with
mysterious sudden sheens of gold. She came to him at once, expectancy in
her eyes; and the thought that this prize was his, that hundreds would
watch them as they stood together, acknowledging his right, gave him a
sudden swift sense of power and conquest.
"I was with your father," he said, in explanation, "to witness some
papers. Say, Doris, how every woman here must hate you to-night!"
"It's all for you," she said, delighted. "Dance with me. Tell me what
happened. There's been a dreadful row, I know, for days. Mother and
father haven't spoken except in public, and Dolly's been moping."
"It was something about the settlements. Your father was white-hot all
right."
"We won't have more than a round or two," she said. "I've kept what I
could for you--the supper dance, of course. Every one is here!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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