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Costell's flower-garden, in which she spent almost her whole time, and chatted with her about it. He saw the beautiful stables, and their still more beautiful occupants. He liked the couple very much. Both were simple and silent people, of little culture, but it seemed to Peter that the atmosphere had a gentle, homely tone that was very pleasing. As he got into the light buggy, he said to Mrs.
Miss Luck gets him chosen to a convention by a fluke and Peter votes against Costell's wishes. What happens? Costell promptly takes him up and pushes him for all he's worth. He snubs society, and society concludes that a man who is more snubby and exclusive than itself must be a man to cultivate.
Pierce blandly, "that he did many things which, on their face, seemed admirable and to indicate feeling. But if carefully examined, they would be found to have been advantageous to him. Any service he could have done to Mrs. Rivington surely did not harm him. His purchase of Costell's place pleased the political friends of the dead leader.
Nor was this all. Peter seemed to be constantly trying to get her to spend time with him. Though the real summer was fast coming, he had another dinner. He had a box at the theatre. He borrowed a drag from Mr. Pell, and took them all up for a lunch at Mrs. Costell's in Westchester. Then nothing would do but to have another drive, ending in a dinner at the Country Club.
Good-evening." Peter went to the door. "Mr. Stirling," called Kennedy. "Won't you stay and take some whisky and water with us?" "Thank you," said Peter. "Mr. Costell's in my room and he must be tired of waiting." He closed the door, and walked away. The couple looked at each other blankly for a moment. "The cuss is playing a double game," Maguire gasped.
"I did something twice," he said, "that I have felt very meanly about at times. Perhaps you'll forgive me now?" He took from the sachet, a glove, and a small pocket-handkerchief, and without a word showed them to Leonore. Leonore looked at them. "That's the glove I lost at Mrs. Costell's, isn't it?" she asked gravely. Peter nodded his head.
Candor compels the statement that he enjoyed the long hours stretched on the turf, or sitting idly on the veranda, puffing Mr. Costell's good Havanas. Twice Mr. Bohlmann stopped at Peter's office of a Saturday and took him out to stay over Sunday at his villa in one of the Oranges. The family all liked Peter and did not hesitate to show it. Mr.
"I don't know what it means!" said Kennedy. "Mean?" cried Maguire. "It can mean only one thing. He's acting under Costell's orders." "But why should he give it away to us?" "How the should I know? Look here, Kennedy, you must do it, after all." "I don't want to." "Tut, tut, man, you must." "But my ward?" "Come. We'll make it quarantine, as you want. That's six years, and you can your ward."
Costell's hand stopped the speech there. "Mr. Stirling," said Mr. Costell, rising as he spoke, "I hope when you come to think it over, that you will vote with us for Catlin. But whether you do or not, we want you to work with us. We can help you, and you can help us. When you are ready to begin on your bills, come and see me." "Thank you," said Peter. "That is just what I want."
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