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Updated: June 2, 2025
Bonbright, shoulders drooping, legs dragging, face drawn, eyes burning, would have passed him without recognition, without caring who it was he passed, but that did not suit Lightener's purpose. "Well, Bonbright?" he said. Sudden fire flashed in Bonbright's brain.
Bonbright's attention was all for Ruth, but her eyes glanced curiously about, observing the well-fed, well- kept, brilliantly dressed men and women men and women of the world to which she belonged now. As one approached them and saw them, they were singularly human. Their faces were not different from faces she was accustomed to. Cleaner they were, perhaps, with something more of refinement.
The day after his installation in the purchasing department he lunched at the little hash house across the street. Sitting on his high stool, he tried to imagine he was a part of that sweating, gulping crowd of men, that he was one of them, and not an outsider, suspected, regarded with unfriendly looks. Behind him a man began to make conversation for Bonbright's ears. It had happened before.
Suddenly she stopped, eyes startled, a deeper pallor blighting her face for she heard Bonbright's step on the stairs.... She had forgotten the lateness of the hour. "Oh'." she said. "What is it?" "HE is here." She was awakened by the shock of it, and saw, saw clearly. She had stood upon the brink and HE had come in time.... And then she was afraid. Neither of them spoke.
"H'm!... Suppose you mind your own business," he said, in his gruff, granite way not rudely nor offensively. "How's his wife? How are they getting along?" Hilda shook her head. "They're queer, dad. Somehow I don't believe things are working out the way they should. I can't understand HER." "Squabbling?" "Never.... Bonbright's so gentle with her.
He laid his head against the chute and shut his eyes.... Presently he staggered to his feet and walked blindly to the stairway. At the bottom stood Malcolm Lightener, not there by accident, but with design to test Bonbright's metal to the utmost. He placed himself there for Bonbright to see, to give Bonbright opportunity to beg off, to SQUEAL.
On came his father and mother, with no quickening of pace. Bonbright's eyes moved from one face to the other as they approached. Now they were face to face. Mrs. Foote's eyes encountered Ruth's, moved away from the girl to her son, moved on giving no sign of recognition. Mr.
The will should be a straight steel rod urged in one undeviating direction by heart and mind. No day passed upon which the rod of Bonbright's will was not bent, was not twisted to make it follow the direction of some other will stronger than his the direction of the accumulated wills of all the Bonbright Footes who had built up the family tradition.
His father had seen fit not to use diplomacy, but to assert autocratically the power of Bonbright Foote, Incorporated. Bonbright's individuality had thought to lift its head; it had been stamped back into its appointed, circumscribed place. He was not satisfied with himself. His time for protest had been when he answered his father's challenge.
"Yes," said Dulac. The word was spoken so low, so tensely, that it hardly reached Bonbright's ears. That was all. He said no more, but stood, haggard and menacing. Bonbright eyed him, saw his drawn face, saw the hatred in his eyes. Neither spoke, but eye held eye. Bonbright's hand moved toward a button on his desk, but did not touch it.
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