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Updated: April 30, 2025
Fenneben," Burleigh said, and his voice was deep and sweetly resonant. "If I keep the money in charge I may not be proof against the temptation to use it for myself. As strong as my strong arms are my hates and loves, and for some reasons I would do almost anything to gain riches. I might not resist the tempter." Lloyd Fenneben's black eyes blazed at the words.
The Sunrise bell was striking eleven when they reached the bridge across the Walnut, and the beacon light from the dome began to twinkle a welcome now and then through the dripping branches of the leafless trees. A few minutes later, Victor Burleigh brought Elinor safely to Lloyd Fenneben's door. "We made it in before midnight, anyhow," he said carelessly. Elinor looked up in surprise.
Fenneben's recovery was the only thing asked for. There was as yet no clew regarding the cause of the assault. Bond Saxon had avoided Burgess since the event, so the young man himself made occasion to get Bond up into Dr. Fenneben's study one June day just before commencement. "Saxon," he said gravely, "you are a man of sense, and you know that there's something wrong about this Fenneben assault.
His eyes were on the pigeons cleaving the air with short, graceful flights. Presently he felt the soft touch of baby curls against his hand, and little Bug had fallen asleep with his drooping head on Fenneben's lap. The Dean gently placed the tired little one in an easy position, and rested his shoulder against the tree. "That must be Pigeon Place," he mused. "Every town has its odd characters.
"Because Lloyd Fenneben's the man she loved years ago, and her folks wouldn't let her marry," Bond Saxon said sadly. Burgess felt as if the limestone ridge was giving way beneath him. "Where is she now?" "She's gone, nobody knows where. I hope to heaven she will never come back," the old man replied. "And it was she who saved Dr. Fenneben's life? Does he know who she is?" "No, no.
"They do not always leave so soon as that. You can't tell the grade of timber every time by the bark outside." There was a deeper tone in Dr. Fenneben's voice now. "But as to yourself, you had a motive in coming to Kansas, I judge. You can study types anywhere." Whether the young man liked this or not, he answered evenly: "I am to give instruction in Greek here at Lagonda Ledge.
Fenneben's beautiful niece, whose reputation was barely saved by old Bond Saxon on the stormy night after the holiday. You, who are forced for some reason to care for an unknown child. You, whose true character will soon be fully known here if this is what you have to say, you may go," he added with an imperious wave of the hand. The meanness of anger is in its mastery.
I thought you might have a more definite purpose in choosing this state, of all places." Fenneben's mind was running back to the days of his own first struggle for existence in the West, and his heart went out in sympathy to the undisciplined young professor. "I have a reason, but it is entirely a personal matter." Burgess was looking at the floor now. "Did you know I had a sister once?"
In the rotunda Vic and Vincent met face to face, the country boy in his football suit and brown sweater, and the slender young college professor, with faultless tailoring and immaculate linen. Ten minutes before, Burgess had been in Dr. Fenneben's office, where Elinor Wream and a group of fair college girls were chattering excitedly. "See these roses, Uncle Lloyd."
If ever a father-heart beat in a bachelor's breast, Lloyd Fenneben had such a heart. "I want to settle about Thanksgiving Day," Vic said. "I had a moral right to play on the team in that game, but I had to get the legal right by force. Professor Burgess refused to permit me to play until I MADE him do it." Fenneben's eyes were smiling. "Why didn't you knock him down and fight it out with him?"
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