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Updated: May 25, 2025
Lightener ROTTEN. She said she'd never receive Ruth as her daughter, and that she'd see she was never received by anybody else, and she she FORCED father to back her up....There wasn't anything for me to do but get out....I didn't begin to wonder how I was going to support Ruth till it was all over with." "That's the time folks generally begin to wonder."
He could not ask his father to help him, for he did not want his father ever to know what had happened the night before, yet he must have help from some one. Suddenly the name of Malcolm Lightener occurred to him. After a time the doorman appeared with breakfast. "Can I send a message?" asked Bonbright.
It was hard to give it up.... Nobody wants to be poor when he can be rich. If it hadn't been for Ruth I suppose I should have been there yet pretty well made over to fit by this time." As Bonbright and Malcolm Lightener talked, Mr. Foote sat in his office, his head upon his desk, one arm stretched out across the blotter, the other shielding his face. He did not move....
Mershon was Lightener's engineer, the man who had designed and built his great plant. "I can't, but I will." "As soon as he can arrange it, please. I want to get started." "He'll be there in half an hour." Mershon came, a gray, beefy, heavy-faced man with clear, keen, seeing eyes. "Mr. Lightener has loaned you to me, Mr. Mershon. It was a tremendous favor, for I know what you can do."
"Young man," he said, gruffly, "what's this I hear?" Bonbright looked up inquiringly. "Come over here." Lightener jerked his head toward a private spot for conversation. "About you and that little girl," he said. "I would rather not talk about it," said Bonbright, slowly. "But I'm going to talk about it. It's nonsense...."
The doorman scrutinized him, saw he was no bum of the streets, but quite evidently a gentleman in temporary difficulty. "Maybe," he said, grudgingly. "Gimme the message and I'll see." "Please telephone Mr. Malcolm Lightener that the younger of the gentlemen he called on last evening is here and would like to see him." "Malcolm Lightener, the automobile feller?" "Yes." "Friend of your'n?" "Yes."
Lightener moved awkwardly and showed signs of embarrassment. "And listen here," he said, gruffly, "a young girl's a pretty sweet and delicate piece of business. They're mighty easy to hurt, and the hurt lasts a long time....You want to be married a long time, I expect, and you want your wife to er love you right on along. Well, be darn careful, young fellow. Start the thing right.
I may live ten years or twenty years but I shall live them in such comfort as I can obtain.... Is there anything else you wish to talk to me about?" It was a dismissal, and Malcolm Lightener was not used to being dismissed like a troublesome book agent. "Yes," he said, getting to his feet. "There is something, and I'll be short and sweet about it.
I can't give you so much, and I can't do the things for you that I could.... We'll be quite poor, but I've got a job. Mr. Lightener gave me a job, and I've got to go to work in the morning. That's why we can't go away...." "You mean," she said, dully, trying to sense this calamity, "that you will never go back? Never own that business?" "It was a choice of giving you up or that.
"Lightener says it looks all right now, but it won't last. He says it's impractical." "He doesn't know. How could he know as well as you do? Aren't you the greatest man in the world?" She said it half laughingly, but in her heart she meant it. She loved to talk business with him; to hear about the new mills and how they were turning out engines.
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