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"Ah, if you only knew if only I could tell you something " She broke off, lowered her head to her hand, and he saw her breast rise on a billow of emotion. "Something about your child?" Buckton queried, jealously. She nodded faintly. He heard her sigh.
Irene was all right, no new toy to play with till Buckton ran into that fortune, and now nothing will hold her down. She used to fancy she cared for him, and, now that he has plenty of funds, she is sure of it. The society of this town, sir, is rotten to the core. It is trying to be French, trying to imitate foreign nobility and the New York Four Hundred.
Though highly displeased by again meeting the man, Buckton nodded and forced a casual smile. "It was pretty dusty and hot," he said. "Won't you take a smoke before you turn in?" the drummer asked, extending a cigar. "No, thanks; not to-night," Buckton declined. "Take a drink? I've got the best samples on earth. My customers say I carry better samples than stock, but that's a joke.
"Tiptop," Buckton said, with a sort of restraint Mostyn inwardly resented. "Couldn't have turned out better. Sorry you've cut out the giddy whirl, old man. As I passed your bank this morning I thought of asking you, but you have refused so many times that " "Oh no." Mostyn heartily despised the role he was playing. "I am no longer good at that sort of thing."
If I drive out to Marleigh I shall just catch Buckton. He will be pottering round that orchid-house of his. He will just be home from the office. He can make me a new will there as well as here. Indeed, I ought not to have postponed it for so long." She ordered her little pony phaeton. It was nearly five o'clock.
All was still outside for a moment, and then a loud scream, followed by a fainter one, rent the air. Irene covered her face with her hands and remained in darkness till the train moved on. Buckton came and sat beside her, a disturbed look on his face. He waited for several minutes. Then she dropped her hands and sighed. "I'm sorry this has happened, darling," Buckton said, softly.
Besides, we know no one here." Leaving her at the ladies' entrance to go alone up to the parlor, he went into the office. A sleepy-eyed clerk bowed, turned the register around, and, dipping a pen, handed it to him. "Lady with you, sir?" he inquired. "In my care, yes." Buckton wrote the two names rather unsteadily. "She and I both telegraphed for your best rooms. Please show her to hers at once.
Both the woman and the girl were weeping violently, their sobs and wailings being distinctly heard as they sat locked in each other's arms. The sight was indeed pitiful. The conductor bent over them, said something in a crude effort at comfort, and then left them alone. Buckton came back, a look of annoyance on his face. "What is wrong?" Irene questioned him as he sat down by her.
Real justice was not of this world: she had had too often to come back to that; yet, strangely, happiness was, and her traps had to be set for it in a manner to keep them unperceived by Mr. Buckton and the counter-clerk.
"I know what you want to mean," Irene said, disconsolately. "I also know what such a creature as that would go out of his way to think." "There, you are off again!" Buckton laughed in a mechanical tone, which betrayed his uneasiness. "You are going to keep me busy brushing away your fancies. I see that now.
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