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Updated: June 28, 2025
I know you know where every share is, and just who transferred it to who, but this Mrs. Hardesty has told me she's got it and that ought to be enough!" "Why, certainly!" agreed Mary, instantly closing the book. "I just didn't recall the name. Is she waiting for you now? Then don't let me detain you. I'll be starting East to-night."
But the Hardesty cottage never seemed like home to her, they had rented the big, shingled brown house for only three months, and Jim was anxious that she should not tire herself with altering the arrangement of furniture and curtains for so casual a tenancy. The Hardesty's pictures looked down from the wall, their chairs were unfriendly, their books under lock and key.
Hardesty he had taken to dodging into the bar, where he could be safe from her subtle advances; but on Christmas eve he went too far. They all went too far, in the matter of drinking, but Rimrock went too far with Buckbee. He told him just exactly what he intended to do to Stoddard; which was indiscreet, to say the least.
"Ah, well, well!" the woman cried as she opened her eyes at Rimrock and held out a jeweled hand, "have you forgotten me already? I used to see you so often at the Waldorf, but you won't remember!" "Oh! Back in New York!" exclaimed Rimrock heartily. "What'd you say the name? Oh, Hardesty! Oh, yes! You were a friend of " "Mr. Buckbee! Oh, I was sure you would remember me!
Hardesty, he had thrown away and lost forever his control over Mary Fortune's stock. Now, if he followed after her and tried to make his peace, he might lose his chance with Mrs. Hardesty as well; and if he stayed with her Mary was fully capable of throwing her vote with Stoddard's. It was more than her stock, it was her director's vote that he needed above everything else!
The mass of humanity that had swept them down the stairway closed in and swallowed them up. She was gone but she was there right there through the crowd and Rimrock started towards her. Mrs. Hardesty followed, dragged on by main strength, and then resolutely she set her feet. The outraged escorts of jostled ladies formed a solid phalanx against him and Rimrock wheeled impatiently.
Hardesty might have sent on the telegram herself, and that Whitney H. Stoddard might have motives of his own in inviting his newspapers to act; it did not stand to reason that the first man Rimrock ran into should have had such a sweet inside tip. Yet that was what the gay Buckbee told him and circumstances proved he was right.
So he played it carelessly, like the plunger he was, and fortune and Mrs. Hardesty smiled. He won, on the Street; and, though the stakes were not specified, he seemed to be winning with her. It was a question with him whether a woman of her kind ever thought of such a thing as marriage. She had money of her own, and all that money could buy; and her freedom, whatever that was.
She had simply let him come on and at every bludgeon stroke she had replied with a rapier thrust. Without saying a word against the character of Mrs. Hardesty she had conveyed the thought that she was an adventuress; or, if not exactly that, then something less than a lady. And the sure way in which she had reached for that book was proof positive that the stock was not recorded.
There came a time when Buckbee asked shrewd questions and Mrs. Hardesty took him playfully to task; but he carried it off by wise nods and smiles and the statement that he knew something good. He was learning the game and, to cover up his tracks, he joined the mad whirl of social life.
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