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Updated: May 27, 2025
"He told me he saw Conward here . . . upstairs . . . and Conward made a boast . . . and he would have shot him but you rushed upon him and begged him not to. He said you would have taken the bullet yourself rather than it should find Conward." "Oh, oh," the girl cried, in the pain of one mortally hurt. "How could he think that? I didn't care for him for Conward but for Dave.
She had now no doubt that she felt for Dave that attachment without which ceremonies are without avail, and with which ceremonies are but ceremonies. And yet she shrank from surrender. . . . And she knew that some day she must surrender. The situation was complicated by conditions which involved her mother and Conward. Mrs. Hardy had never allowed herself to become reconciled to Dave Elden.
They were shown into Conward's office. Time had been when they would have seen no further than a head salesman; but times were changing, and real estate dealers were losing the hauteur of the days of their great success. Conward gave them the welcome of a man who expects to make money out of his visitors. He placed a very comfortable chair for Mrs.
When you find them rambling it might be well to ah lasso them. Ha, ha, Mr. Conward. That's the word, is it not? Lasso them." This unexpected witticism on Mrs. Hardy's part had the fortunate effect of restoring that lady's good humour, and Elden found an easy way out of the situation by joining in the general laughter.
The fact that Conward had acted upon the information indicated two things; first, that he had no very troublesome sense of honour which Dave had long suspected and second, that he had deliberately planned a confliction with Dave's visit to the Hardy home. This indicated a policy of some kind; a scheme deeper than Dave was as yet able to fathom.
"Don't be silly," Conward retorted. "I didn't enjoy it any more than you did introducing you as my friend, and then have you go out like that. Why didn't you tip me? I didn't know it would put you to sleep." "Neither did I," said Dave. "Well, the next thing is to get you home. Can you walk?" "Sure."
Hardy had been fingering her handkerchief, which she now pressed to her eyes. Conward laid a soothing hand on her shoulder. "There, there," he said. "You must control yourself. Tell me. It will relieve you, and perhaps I can help." "Oh, I'm sure you can," she returned. "It's all over Irene and that that I will say it that cow puncher. To think it would have come to this! Mr.
Conward I see it all very plainly now and he and others like him have brought things to their present pass. Well, they have a great responsibility." Conward, practised though he was in the arts of simulation, found difficulty in maintaining a serious appearance.
"You're from the ranches, I see, and I suppose the price of a steer or two doesn't worry you a hair's worth." "From is right," Dave replied. "I'm from them, an' I'm not goin' back. As for money well, I spent my last nickle for breakfast, so I've got to line up a job before noon." The stranger extended his hand. "Shake," he said. "I like you. You're no squealer, anyway. My name is Conward. Yours?"
With a cruelty almost unbelievable, Conward had talked this man into the purchase of property so far removed from the city as to possess no value except as farm land; and the little savings, which were to ward off sickness and death, or, if that could not be, minister modest comfort in the declining hours of life, had been exchanged for property which, even at the time of the transaction, was valueless and unsalable.
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