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Updated: June 9, 2025
Harboro and the General Manager were talking, Harboro's heavy tones alternating at unequal intervals with the crisp, penetrating voice of the General Manager a voice dry with years, but vital nevertheless. After a time the horses in the carriage broke into a rhythmic trot. In the darkness Runyon's eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
Runyon rode out past Harboro's house that afternoon. Sylvia, in her place by the window, watched him come. In the distance he assumed a new aspect in her eyes. She thought of him impersonally as a thrilling picture. She rejoiced in the sight of him as one may in the spectacle of an army marching with banners and music.
Perhaps I should say that she was extraordinarily happy. I doubt very much if she had come to contemplate the married state through Harboro's eyes; but she seemed to have feared that an avalanche would fall and none had fallen.
She awoke, but Harboro's crowning torture came when he saw the expression in her eyes. The horror of one who tumbles into a bottomless abyss was in them. But now thank God! she drew herself to him passionately and wept in his arms. The day had brought back to her the capacity to think, to compare the fine edifice she and Harboro had built with the wreck which a cruel beast had wrought.
Harboro saw nothing out of the ordinary in the invitation; but unfortunately he responded before he had quite taken the situation into account. "It's pretty early for me," he said. "Another time if you'll excuse me." It was to be regretted that Harboro's manner seemed a trifle stiff; and Dunwoodie read uncomfortable meanings into that refusal.
On the Saturday night following the election Harboro came home and found a letter waiting for him on the table in the hall. He found also a disquieted Sylvia, who looked at him with brooding and a question in her eyes. He stopped where he stood and read the letter, and Sylvia watched with parted lips for she had recognized the handwriting on the envelope. Harboro's brows lowered into a frown.
Her father went to the wedding, of course; but he was not the kind of person you would expect to participate conspicuously in a ceremony of that sort. Sylvia had never permitted Harboro to come to the house to see her. She had drawn a somewhat imaginary figure in lieu of a father to present to Harboro's mind's eye. He did not like the idea of his daughter getting married.
The reason for this trip of Harboro's and Sylvia's was that Harboro wanted Sylvia to have a new dress for a special occasion. It happened that two or three weeks after his marriage Harboro came upon an interesting bit of intelligence in the Eagle Pass Guide, the town's weekly newspaper. He had carried the newspaper with him.
And then Harboro's manner became rather brisk again. "Come, I want to show you the house," he said, addressing his wife. He had taken a great deal of pride in the planning and construction of the house.
They were men of different minds from Harboro's. He considered their social positions matters which concerned them only; but they had duly noted the fact that he had been taken up in high places and then dropped without ceremony. They knew of his marriage. Certain rumors touching it had reached them from the American side.
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