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Updated: May 1, 2025
Ef he ran off on account of only two hundred and fifty dollars he ain't goin' to run back again for the mere matter o' your marrying Joan. Ef he had he'd a done it afore this. It's orkard ez I said but the only orkardness is your feelin's. I reckon Joan's got used to hers." Demorest had risen angrily to his feet.
Demorest drew back to let the shaft glance by. "The story is old enough, at least for her to have had a dozen flirtations, as you know, since then," he returned gently, "and I don't think she herself seriously believes in it. But let that pass. I am sorry I offended her. I had no idea of doing so. As a rule, I think she is not so easily offended. But I shall apologize to her."
Was it not a proof of the richness of Heavy Tree Hill? So strongly was this reflected on their faces that a casual observer, contrasting them with the thoughtful countenances of the real owners, would have thought them the lucky ones. It touched Barker's quick sympathies, it puzzled Stacy, it made Demorest more serious, it aroused Steptoe's active contempt.
If he WROTE the poetry that he LIVES everybody would think him wonderful; for being what he is we never give him sufficient credit." Stacy smiled grimly, and penciled on his memorandum, "He wants it to the amount of ten thousand dollars." "Anyhow," continued the writer, "look after him, Jim, for his sake, your sake, and the sake of PHIL DEMOREST."
"It ain't Joan Salisbury nor Dick Demorest ez giv' him that start! Humph! Wa'al I wanter know!" Mrs. Demorest was so fascinated by the company of Dona Rosita Pico and her romantic memories, that she prevailed upon that heart-broken but scarcely attenuated young lady to prolong her visit beyond the fortnight she had allotted to communion with the past.
Well he'd been with men who didn't shut their doors and turn the boys out just in the shank of the evening. He wasn't any Barker to be wet-nursed by Demorest. "Some one else was here!" said Demorest sternly, with his eyes fixed on Whiskey Dick.
The action was that of an habitually imperious man; and the only recognition he made of the other's ownership was the question: "Where were you going?" "Home to see Joan," replied the other. "Just drove over from Warensboro Station. But what on earth are YOU doing here?" Without answering the question, Demorest turned to his companion with the same good-natured, half humorous authority.
But how could a woman like Adoree Demorest, "The King's Favorite," "The Woman with the Rubies," hope for wifehood or for motherhood? The bitterness of these reflections lay in the fact that Adoree knew herself to be pure. But the world considered her evil, and evil in its eyes she would remain. How could she hope to bring anything but misery to a husband or bequeath anything but shame to a child?
Miss Demorest giggled audibly; she had lost all interest in her food; she was tingling with excitement. "Why didn't you fence them in?" she asked. Pope eyed her for a fleeting instant, then his gaze wavered. "I fenced in the whole pond to begin with. It nearly broke me." "A duck shouldn't have much water. What kind were they?"
Of late, too, there were times when Dona Rosita's naive intelligence, which was not unlike the embarrassing perceptions of a bright and half-spoiled child, was in her way, and she would willingly have shared the young lady's company with her husband had Demorest shown any sympathy for the girl.
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