Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 1, 1922 — page 116: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

906 “Treat her like a man, sir. She is one of those rare women under forty who have minds and she will respond to a bit of dis- cussion of the proper tone. Socially, she will one day be another Mrs. Littheton—or even more because she has a better sense of humor. There is a touch of the Roman about Mrs. Littleton, sir, as you may have noted.”’ “TY haven’t, but I'll write it in red. Any more?” “ Most significant of all: James Vincent, your old acquaintance, sir.” “YT think I know him.” William North started in manifest alarm. “No, no, sir! Vincent and no one ever will. I sometimes think he does not know himself from day to day. Concerning him I have only an humble suggestion to make, sir, and that is, caution, caution, caution!” “ T suppose you're right. I’ll watch him.” “ Without letting him know?” “Without letting him know, then.” “Good. He likes to be considered a social trifler and a dictator of fashion. In reality he is much more.” “What, for instance?”’ “ That is what no one knows.” “ And so,”’ concluded North, “‘ I hope you. are prepared for the battle, sir?” “ Perfectly,”” murmured Dickon. But his glance had wandered out the win- dow .and over the woods. Opposite his window the forest had been cleared away in a lane, a blind alley made solely to furnish a vista for a few windows in the house which opened on that side; mists of the late afternoon gathered across it, now, and tangled the strong green of the elm trees and the naked oaks in films of blue. Closer beneath the window stretched the Italian garden, delightfully formal, with paths of white gravel primly laid out, and smoothly fashioned hedges, and tossing heads of foun- tains, and shrubs carefully rounded, and bits of lawn scrupulously shaven. “You are not unhappy, sir,” said Wil- liam North, stepping a little closer. “Only thoughtful,” said Dickon. you see what money means, North?” He was talking.more to himself than to the valet. “ Do No one knows James . ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ““There’s the forest cut away to give a perspective for a tired eye; and there’s a bit of nature under us made formal for the sole sake of contrast with that wild wood across the way. Money did all that!” He paused and dropped his chin upon his hand, scowling. “But, sir?” suggested North. “Why do you say that?” “You infer another side to the picture, sir.” “Do I? Well, it’s a business matter, North. Souls are comparatively cheap this year, eh?” ‘What do you say, sir?”’ ““T say; if a man could sell his soul for something like this, wouldn’t he be a fool not to make the bargain?”’ CHAPTER XXXII. CYNTHIA TASTES SUCCESS, HE valet could not for a moment link that remark with the memory of Marie Guilbert; for his own part he had dropped her out of his mind with a deep feeling of shame because he had ever closely connected the third master with the actress. Indeed, he did not worry long because the last words of Dickon were unintelligible; for he was beginning to pay his master the deepest compliment of which he was cap- able; he commenced to accept Dickon as a bemg of superior reach and not to be fol- jowed in his mental processes beyond a cer- tain point. This feeling of respect tinged with awe had been forcefully increased earlier in the day when he arrived and found that his master had been assigned by Mrs. Littleton to one of the finest guest rooms in the manor. He had not mentioned this fact to the master, for he began to feel that Dickon took such successes for granted; but he and the other body servants in the house had lost no time in making a thor- ough comparison of apartments. The re- sult was one which enabled William North to hold his head high among the others. To be sure he looked upon the third master as to a certain extent a pupil—a child, al- most—but he was such a pupil as Philip comicloool C©