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Updated: May 3, 2025
He must be always brave, or always generous, or always niggardly. He must be consistent, and consistency is not life." "But inconsistency is life, and you are, therefore, not dead," McGlenn replied. "If inconsistency were a jewel," he added, "you would be a cluster of brilliants. As it is, you are an intellectual fault-finder and a physical hypochondriac."
"In my willingness to help the weak," Richmond replied, "I have held your overcoat while you put it on." "And it was not an honest covering until you took your hands off." "Neither did it cover honesty until some other man put it on by mistake," Richmond rejoined. DeGolyer went to his office, and Richmond and McGlenn, wrangling as they walked along, betook themselves to the Press Club.
"Ah, you have killed a mysterious lion and made a riddle; but where is the honey you found in the carcass? Give us the explanation." "Not now. But one of these bleak Chicago days you and Richmond will sit in the club, watch the whirling snow and discuss me, and you both will say that you always thought there was something strange about me." "And we do," McGlenn replied.
"Yes, I am gradually making myself feel at home," Henry answered. "You find the weather disagreeable, of course. We do, I know." "I think that Chicago is great in spite of its climate," said Henry. "If great at all, it is great in spite of a great many absences," McGlenn replied; "and in these absences it is mean and contemptible.
"I fear that I must confess a lack of higher civilization. I am not well schooled in anything, and I suppose that you must class me with Richmond as a barbarian. I lack" "Art," McGlenn suggested. "But for you there is a chance. John Richmond is hopelessly gone."
I am simply an ordinary man who has passed through an extraordinary school. And what I think are virtues may be errors." McGlenn replied: "John is your friend. John thinks that you are a strong man I don't know yet, but I do know that you please me when you are silent and that you don't displease me when you talk.
They were at luncheon, and McGlenn had declared that DeGolyer was sometimes strangely inconsistent. "I admit that I am, John, and with an explanation I could make you stare at me." "Then let us have the explanation. Man was made to stare as well as to mourn." "No, not now; but it will come one of these days, though perhaps not directly from me."
The front or trading room is usually well lighted by windows set in the side, for it is well to have good light when fine furs are to be passed upon. The trading room of McGlenn offered no exception to the rule, and his window seats were good resting places for the casual barterer.
McGlenn smiled, and his smile had two meanings, one for his friends and another for his enemies. His friends saw a thoughtful countenance illumined by an intellectual light; his enemies recognized a sarcasm that had escaped from a sly and revengeful spirit. But Henry was his friend. "John," said Richmond, "you think" McGlenn turned out his thumb and began to motion with his fist.
I haven't questioned him, but occasionally he drops a hint that leads me to believe that he's satisfied." DeGolyer was once tempted to tell Richmond and McGlenn that he was feeling his way through a part that had been put upon him, but with this impulse came a restraining thought the play was not yet done.
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