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Kendricks himself, Manhattan cockney as he was, with scarcely more out look into the average American nature than if he had been kept a prisoner in New York society all his days, perceived a property in her which forbade him as a man of conscience to trifle with her; something earthly good and kind, if it was simple and vulgar.
He chose to be perverse about her romance. "Well, now, you had better let them alone. Remember Kendricks." He meant one of their young friends whose love-affair they had promoted till his happy marriage left them in lasting doubt of what they had done. "My sympathies are all with the pivotal girl. Hadn't she as much right to him, for the time being, or for good and all, as Miss Triscoe?"
"It is sound," he agreed. "I will join you, with pleasure." "Mademoiselle," Herr Freudenberg continued, "permit me to introduce my new friend, Mr. Kendricks. Mr. Kendricks Mademoiselle Ixe. We will now begin, if it is your pleasure, to spend the evening. There is room in our corner, Mr. Kendricks.
We had spoken low, and in the utmost vehemence of his speech he did not lift his voice. In any case, she did not heed what he said. "Papa," she repeated, "I want you to come up and see Mrs. March on the piazza. And Mr. Kendricks is there." I had a wild desire to laugh at what followed, and yet it was not without its pathos. "I I hm! hm! I cannot see Mr. Kendricks just at present.
If you do not know who that young man is, you have not the head for detail, the memory, which goes to the making of politicians." Julien leaned back in his chair and laughed, softly but genuinely. Even Kendricks seemed a little taken aback. "Upon my word!" the latter exclaimed. "This is an interesting young person! Mademoiselle, I congratulate you. You have the gifts." "Interesting, indeed!"
"I'm not going to leave your side till we're through with this little job." "Madame Christophor suggested that I should go there and finish," Julien said. "What do you think of that?" "Madame Fiddlesticks!" Kendricks retorted angrily. "The wife of Falkenberg! Do you want to walk into the lion's jaws?" "She is separated from her husband," Julien reminded him.
They're like pampered, highly-groomed animals, with their mouths open for the tit-bits of life. They have to be fed with whatever food it may be they crave for, and that's the end of it." Kendricks motioned with his head across the room to where the little woman with the blackened eyebrows was eating her dinner. "What about that?" he asked.
"Kendricks, I'm afraid we're abusing your good nature. I know you're up here to look about, and you're letting us use all your time. You mustn't do it. Women have no conscience about these things, and you can't expect a woman who has a young lady on her hands to spare you. I give you the hint. Don't count upon Mrs. March in this matter."
But I don't believe there's another publication in New York that could bring together, in honor of itself, a fraternity and equality crank like poor old Lindau, and a belated sociological crank like Woodburn, and a truculent speculator like old Dryfoos, and a humanitarian dreamer like young Dryfoos, and a sentimentalist like me, and a nondescript like Beaton, and a pure advertising essence like Fulkerson, and a society spirit like Kendricks.
"Really, Julien," declared Kendricks, "I am beginning to have hopes of you. There are times when you are almost bright." "What are you here for?" Julien asked. "Is there anything wrong in London?" "Anything wrong!" Kendricks growled. "You and your foolish letters, Julien! You left the way open for that little bounder Carraby and he'll do for us. Lord, how they love him in Berlin!"
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