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Look at him he's grinning he's laughing he is telling one of his funny yarns to pretend to Saunders that he is indifferent about the stock. Huh! Well he may laugh. Who knows, perhaps his luck will turn? The man that counts on luck is God's fool." Mostyn took out a cigar as he approached the two men. "Match?" he asked Delbridge.
"It is reported that Delbridge, the feller you started out to race against so big, has swiped the bank presidency right from under your nose, nabbed the cream of the business, and put it on a respectable footing." "That is all true," Mostyn admitted. Thrusting his hand into his pocket, he drew out the check he had written. It fluttered in the air, for he held it unsteadily.
With Irene's farewell note in his pocket and ever present to his mind, Mostyn spent the remainder of the morning on which it was received mechanically instructing the elated Delbridge in his rival's new duties at the bank as its future president. At noon he tore himself away, plunging again into the streets, there even more fully to face himself and his coming humiliation.
Delbridge was passing, and, seeing them in his hands, he said, with his forced and commercial shrewdness: "If you have any idea of selling out, Mostyn, I'm in a shape now to take that stock off your hands." Mostyn's stare resolved itself into a glare of indecision. "What would be your price?" he asked, under his breath, and yet audibly "that is, in case I I found another use for the money?"
Which request was opposed by Sir Ferdinando Gorges, alleging that he always favored Mr. Delbridge but in this he thought himself something touched that he should sue to this Company and not rather to him as the matter properly belonged to the Northern Colony to give liberty for fishing in that place, it lying within their latitude. This was answered by Mr.
"I will soon get over my talk with the overseer, and then I'll take you around and show you some of the richest land in the South black as your hat in some places. I wouldn't give this piece of property for all you and Delbridge and Mitchell ever can pile up. Both my grandfather and father died in the room up-stairs on the left of the hall. It seems sacred to me." Mostyn nodded absently.
Wright, Delbridge, and the clerks and stenographers seemed unreal creatures, with flaccid, vacuous faces, as he shook hands with them and answered their conventional queries about his vacation. "Vacation!" The word was not in his vocabulary. "Business! "That, too, was a corpse of a word floating on the still waters of past usage. "Money, stocks, bonds, market-reports!"
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