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"In the first place, you are one of those men whose fortunes are listed in the top schedule the swollen fortunes. Socialists would put you in the predatory class." "Drennie," he groaned, "do you keep your heaven locked behind a gate of the Needle's Eye? It's not my fault that I'm rich. It was wished on me. If you are serious, I'm willing to become poor as Job's turkey.
"Am I so very funny?" he inquired, with dignity. "You are, when you are so very tragic," she assured him. He realized that his temper was merely a challenge to her teasing, and he wisely fell back into his customary attitude of unruffled insouciance. "Drennie, you have held me off since we were children. I believe I first announced my intention of marrying you when you were twelve.
For no visible reason, she flushed, and her next question came a trifle eagerly: "Do you mean that I have influenced you?" "Influenced me, Drennie?" he repeated. "You have done more than that. You have painted me out, and painted me over." She shook her head, and in her eyes danced a light of subtle coquetry. "There are things I have tried to do, and failed," she told him.
"I suppose experience should have taught me," began Horton, slowly, "that the most asinine thing in the world is to try to lecture you, Drennie. But there are times when one must even risk your delight at one's discomfiture." "I'm not going to tease you this morning," she answered, docilely. "I like the horse too well and, to be frank, I like you too well!" "Thank you," smiled Horton.
"See here, Drennie, I know perfectly well that I'm a sheer imbecile to reveal the fact that you've made me mad. It pleases you too perfectly. It makes you happier than is good for you, but " "It's a terrible thing to make me happy, isn't it?" she inquired, sweetly. "Unspeakably so, when you derive happiness from the torture of your fellow-man." "My brother-man," she amiably corrected him.
George and Wilfred are going to stop at my uncle's house, but, unless you'd rather have it otherwise, Sally wants you here." "Do I stop now?" the girl asked. But the man shook his head. "I want you to meet my other people first." As they rode at a walk along the little shred of road left to them, the man turned gravely. "Drennie," he began, "she waited for me, all those years.
"Delilah, Oh, Delilah!" he said. "I was resolute, but you have shorn me." "Don't!" she exclaimed. "Don't call me that!" "Then, Drennie, dear," he answered, lightly, "don't dissuade me from the most decent resolve I have lately made." From the house came the strains of an alluring waltz.
Then, with open and wondering admiration she stood gazing at the first "fine lady" upon whom her glance had ever fallen. Samson went over and took Sally's hand. "Drennie," he said, softly, "is there anything the matter with her?" Adrienne Lescott shook her head. "I understand," she said. "I sent the others on," he went on quietly, "because I wanted that first we three should meet alone.
"No," protested Wilfred, his face becoming penitent. "Just a moment! I retract. It is I who am the cad. Please, tell Mr. South just what we have both said, and make my apologies if he'll accept them. Of course, if you insist, I'll meet him. I suppose I'll have to meet him some day, anyhow. But, frankly, Drennie, I hate the man. It will take a Herculean effort to be decent to him.
Perhaps, I should be more enthusiastic, Drennie, if you were a little less so." For the first time since the talk had so narrowly skirted a quarrel, her eyes twinkled. "I believe you are jealous!" she announced. "Of course, I'm jealous," he replied, without evasion. "Possibly, I might have saved time in the first place by avowing my jealousy. I hasten now to make amends. I'm green-eyed."
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