When Rimrock had caught the first train for New York he had thought it
was to seek out Mary Fortune--to kneel at her feet and tell her humbly
that he knew he had done her a wrong--but as the months went by and his
detectives reported no progress he forgot his early resolve. The rush
and excitement of that great gambling game that goes on in the Stock
Exchange, the plunges on copper and the rushes for cover, all the
give-and-take of the great chase; it picked him up as a great flowing
stream floats a leaf and hurries it along, and Gunsight and Tecolote
and the girl he had known there seemed far away, like a dream.
He was learning the game from the gamblers about him, all the ins and
outs of The Street; the names and methods of all the great leaders and
how they had won their success; and also, bold gambler that he was, he
was starting on a career of his own. In days gone by, at roulette or
faro, or in frontier poker games, he had learned to play with big
chances against him and, compared to them, Wall Street was safe. The
money that he staked was less than six months' earnings of his share of
the Tecolote Mine; and from the brief notes of L. W., who was acting as
his agent, there was more of it piling up. So he played it carelessly,
like the plunger he was, and fortune--and Mrs. Hardesty--smiled.
He won, on the Street; and, though the stakes were not specified, he
seemed to be winning with her. It was a question with him whether a
woman of her kind ever thought of such a thing as marriage. She had
money of her own, and all that money could buy; and her freedom,
whatever that was. In this new world about him all the terms of life
seemed changed and transposed and vague, and he never quite knew what
she meant. Every word that she said when they discussed life and love
seemed capable of a double intent, and whether by freedom she meant to
yield or to escape something he had never made out. All he knew was
that at times she seemed to beckon him on and at others to fend him
away. She was fickle as fortune which, as he plunged and covered,
sometimes smiled and again wore a frown.
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