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Surely these people cannot deem these the lines of beauty. These young ladies were much pleased at beholding their pretty faces in a looking-glass for the first time. They made continual use of the word "Peterman." This was a word I had first heard from the natives of the Rawlinson Range, upon my last horse expedition of 1874.
Will it make good for you to go back to Elas Peterman and say the feller at Sachigo is coming right along down by the Myra to-morrow, and would be pleased to death to talk this proposition right out in the offices of the Skandinavia? Will it?" Nancy's eyes lit. Their hazel depths were wells of thankfulness. "Why, surely," she said. "You mean you're going to sail to-morrow?"
I know. Sachigo will be the biggest thing of its kind in the world next year, and there won't be any room for the Skandinavia. That's a reason I hate for you to go back to Peterman one reason." "But I'm not going back," Nancy cried vehemently. Bull stared wide-eyed. "You're not going back?" he echoed stupidly. Then of a sudden he held out his hand. "Say, pass that message right over.
She wanted to get things into their proper focus. As she closed the door behind her her beautiful eyes had no joy in them. She had realised two things as a result of her interview. The opportunity she had looked forward to had materialised, and she had seized it with both hands. But the goodness of Elas Peterman to herself possessed none of that disinterested kindliness she had hitherto believed.
"Business arrangement?" Peterman sat up. The laugh accompanying his words was full of amiable derision. He shook his head. "If he won't sell he's got to be smashed. That's the only business arrangement that suits us. We're far too big for compromise. No, my dear. He won't sell. He asked to buy us. He this darn fool man from Sachigo.
She was a child in all else. A wide vision of achievement was spread out before her. She could see nothing beyond. She could see nothing to give her pause, nothing even to bestir a belated caution. So she left her office for the interview Peterman had demanded without suspicion, and with a heart and mind ready to plunge her headlong into any labours which the Skandinavia demanded of her.
"Maybe you'll want to know why I changed my plans so easily, and came along down in a hurry to see Peterman. Why I seemed ready to fall for his proposition. Well, I guess I won't hand you the reason of that, either. I'd like to, but I won't." He shook his head and his laugh had gone again. "Anyway, it served my purpose, and Peterman knows just how things stand and are going to stand between us."
"My judgment of you. And all this time I've been guessing Oh, hell! Say, do you know, it gets me bad when I think of you going back to Peterman and his crew? It sets me well-nigh crazy. Oh, I know. I've no right. None at all. But it don't make me feel any better. Here, I'll tell you about it. I'm not going to take to myself virtues I don't possess, and have no right to anyway.
Then he dropped into the chair set for him, while his eyes responded unsmilingly to the measuring gaze of the other. "It's queer we've never met before," Bull said, leaning back in his chair. Peterman laughed. He pushed a large box of cigars close to the visitor's hand. "It's mostly that way with the high command in war," he said easily. "The opposing generals don't meet except at the peace table.
But it was all useless. The man's fine eyes and great body haunted her. They pursued her to her last waking thought. And, at last, she fell asleep, thinking of the strong supporting arms that had held her safe from the fury of Atlantic waves. Nathaniel Hellbeam sat ominously calm and unruffled while Elas Peterman told of his meeting with Bull Sternford. He gave no sign whatever.
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