A few yards off he looked back, and saw that the dog had made a rush
out of the area and was limping furtively down the street. The idle
boys were in the offing, and he disliked the thought of leaving them in
control of the situation. Softly, with infinite precautions, he began to
follow the dog. He did not know why he was doing it, but the impulse was
overmastering. For a moment he seemed to be gaining upon his quarry,
but with a cunning sense of his approach it suddenly turned and hobbled
across the frozen grass-plot adjoining a shuttered house. Against the
wall at the back of the plot it cowered down in a dirty snow-drift, as
if disheartened by the struggle. Millner stood outside the railings and
looked at it. He reflected that under the shelter of the winter dusk it
might have the luck to remain there unmolested, and that in the morning
it would probably be dead of cold. This was so obviously the best
solution that he began to move away again; but as he did so the idle
boys confronted him.
“Ketch yer dog for yer, boss?” they grinned.
Millner consigned them to the devil, and stood sternly watching them
till the first stage of the journey had carried them around the nearest
corner; then, after pausing to look once more up and down the empty
street, laid his hand on the railing, and vaulted over it into the
grass-plot. As he did so, he reflected that, since pity for suffering
was one of the most elementary forms of egotism, he ought to have
remembered that it was necessarily one of the most tenacious.
II
“My chief aim in life?” Orlando G. Spence repeated. He threw himself
back in his chair, straightened the tortoise-shell _pince-nez_, on his
short blunt nose, and beamed down the luncheon table at the two young
men who shared his repast.
His glance rested on his son Draper, seated opposite him behind a
barrier of Georgian silver and orchids; but his words were addressed to
his secretary who, stylograph in hand, had turned from the seductions
of a mushroom _souffle_ in order to jot down, for the Sunday
_Investigator_, an outline of his employer’s views and intentions
respecting the newly endowed Orlando G. Spence College for Missionaries.
It was Mr. Spence’s practice to receive in person the journalists
privileged to impart his opinions to a waiting world; but during the
last few months--and especially since the vast project of the Missionary
College had been in process of development--the pressure of business
and beneficence had necessitated Millner’s frequent intervention,
and compelled the secretary to snatch the sense of his patron’s
elucubrations between the courses of their hasty meals.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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