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Updated: May 27, 2025
"Some joke," she said, and there was disgust in her voice. "Who is it on: Elden, me, or the girl?" "Never mind who it's on," Conward returned. "I'm paying for it. Here's something on account, and if you make a good job of it, I won't be stingy." He handed her a bill, which she kissed and put in her purse. "I need the money, Conward, or I wouldn't take it.
He knew Conward well enough to know that purpose always lay behind his conduct, and during the small talk with which they whiled away an hour his mind was reaching out acutely, exploring every nook of possibility, to arrive, if it could, at some explanation of the sudden interest which Conward was displaying in the Hardys. These explanations narrowed down to two almost equally unpalatable.
Conward was ready enough to adopt Dave's suggestion that their quarrel should not come to the notice of the public, and Gladys Wardin apparently kept her own counsel in the matter.
And was it remarkable that Irene Hardy should think at once of the firm of Conward & Elden? It was not. She had, indeed, been thinking of a member of that firm ever since the decision to move to the West.
"It's very dreadful," Mrs. Hardy repeated. "But you are very thorough; you leave nothing to chance. I suppose that is the way with all big business men." "You can trust me," Conward assured her. "There is no time to be lost, and I must plan my campaigns at once." Conward paused to speak to Irene before leaving the house. "I owe you my good wishes," he said.
Attachments were things which he put on and off as readily as a change of clothes. He planned to hit Dave through Irene, but he planned that when he struck it should be a death blow. Their engagement would lend a sharper edge to his shaft. It may as well be set down that for Mrs. Hardy Conward had no regard whatever. Even while he shaped soft words for her ear he held her in contempt.
He was recalling, with considerable effort, the events of the previous night; piecing them together in impossible ways; re-assorting them until they offered some sequence. The anger he had felt toward Conward had subsided, but the sting of shame rankled in his heart.
Suddenly, from a sharp bend in the road, flashed the lights of an approaching car. Dave was able to switch his own lights on again only in time to avoid a collision. The on-coming car lurched and passed by furiously, but not before Dave had recognized Conward as the driver. Back on its trail of dust floated the ribald notes of half-intoxicated women.
We will allot him a room, and introduce him, first, to the bath-room. And tomorrow we shall have an excursion down town, and some new clothes for Charlie Elden." As they moved up the stairs Conward, who had been in another room in conversation with Mrs. Hardy, followed them unseen. The evening had been interminable for Conward.
She burst in and discovered Conward holding a bottle of smelling salts to the nose of her mother, who had sufficiently recovered to sit upright in her chair. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded of Conward. "Why did he threaten to shoot, and why did he leave as he did? You know; tell me." "I am sure I wish I could tell you," said Conward, with all his accustomed suavity.
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