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Now it so happened that nature or geology or topography or whatever it is that controls such matters had decreed that the railway must cross Farley's lots. There was no other way in. It became the duty of Conward & Elden to buy those lots. We ascertained his address and wired him an offer of two thousand dollars. There was no time to lose, and we felt that that offer would cinch it.
And last night I found him at his rooms, almost mad, and swearing to shoot Conward. And then he told me that that " "Yes? Yes? What did he tell you? I am not afraid " Edith turned her eyes to where the white crests of the mountains cut like a crumpled keel through a sea of infinite blue.
Hardy said to him one evening over her fancy work, for she practised an indefatigable industry in matters of no importance, "How is it that there is no demand for property? You are a real estate expert; you should be able to answer that." "It is simple enough," Conward answered. "It is all a matter of confidence. So long as confidence was maintained, prices continued to advance.
Hardy might have had a glimmer of the absurdity which had provoked Dave's untimely mirth, but she was a woman who took herself with much seriousness. If Conward guessed anything he concealed his intuition behind a mask of polite attention. Mrs. Hardy addressed a severe gaze at Elden. "You should keep your wits better in hand, young man.
Dave told his name, and shook hands. Conward offered his cigarette box, and the two smoked for a few moments in silence. "What kind of a job do you want?" Conward asked at length. "Any kind that pays a wage," said Dave. "If I don't like it I'll chuck it as soon as I can afford t' be partic'lar, but just now I've got to get a grub-stake."
Fortunately for his train of thought, which was floundering into more and more difficult travel, the prospect of having to appeal to Conward for the honour of Irene's hand in marriage touched Dave's sense of humour, and he suddenly burst into inappropriate laughter in the course of Mrs. Hardy's panegyric upon the life and morals of her late husband. Mrs. Hardy contracted her eyebrows.
Dave demanded, as he felt his head beginning to swim in anger. Conward leered only the more offensively, and walked down the stairs beside him. At the foot he coolly lit another cigarette. If he was conscious of the hate in Dave's eyes he hid his emotions under a mask of insolence. He held the match before him and calmly watched it burn out. Then he extended it toward Dave.
So the fall and winter drifted along; Dave had made few acquaintances and no friends, if we except Conward, whom he frequently met in the pool rooms, and for whom he had developed a sort of attachment.
"It sounds like a fairy tale," Dave demurred, as though unwilling to credit the possibilities Conward had outlined. "You're sure it can be done?" "Done? Why, son, it has been done in all the big centres in the States, and at many a place that'll never be a centre at all. And it will be done here. Dave, bigger things than you dare to dream of are looming up right ahead." Then Dave had a qualm.
He could not become Conward's rival in such a case, and, repugnant as the idea was to him, he felt no assurance that such a match might not develop. And Conward, as a prospective father-in-law, was a more grievous menace to his peace of mind than Conward as a defeated rival. The more he contemplated this aspect of the case the less he liked it.
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