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He put Olga Obosky and Careni-Amori in this rather extensive third class, and even went so far as to set what he considered a fair value upon them as human commodities! He worked with the gang of "log-toters," a term supplied by Percival.
A little later she turned to the American girl and laid her hand on her arm. "For-give me, if I was rude to you. I am so very much older than you that I how old are you, Miss Clinton?" "I am twenty-five," replied the other, surprised into replying. "And I am twenty-six," said Madame Obosky, as if she were at least twice the age of her companion. "See! They are dispersing. It's all over. Come!
I I can't dislike you. No, thank you, I sha'n't sit down. I came to see you about the naming of the baby. I suppose you know that we women have decided to oppose the " "Yes, yes, I know," interrupted the other. "But why should we oppose? It is a very small matter." "Do you really believe those men had or have the right to give a name to Betty Cruise's baby? I don't believe it, Madame Obosky."
"He is tearing off his bandages," cried Ruth, as Percival hurried on. Madame Obosky was silent, her gaze fixed intently on the brisk, aggressive figure of the man who had called them idiots. She understood every word he uttered to the Portuguese.
When one reflects that such experienced heads as those possessed by the irreproachable Obosky, the immaculate Amori, to say nothing of the estimable lady we are pleased to call the 'Empress of Brazil, when such heads as theirs are turned by a man it is high time to admit that he has something more than personal magnetism. I am wondering how far the contagion has really spread.
"I must be getting back to my work," said Ruth abruptly. Her eyes were shining, her voice was soft and strangely thick. "But," she went on bravely, after clearing her throat, "we intend to fight it out with them, just the same, Madame Obosky." Olga went to the door with her. "You mean, you intend to fight it out with Mr. Percivail, you yourself, eh?"
"We're not talking about race-horses, Buck," interrupted Percival, smiling. "Neither am I," said Buck forcibly. Ruth went to Olga Obosky. She did so only after a rather prolonged inward struggle. The Russian's interest in Percival was not moderated by the reserve supposed to be inherent in women. She was an open idolatress.
Olga Obosky, sitting on the squared log that served as a step, leaned back against the awning post, her legs stretched out in luxurious abandon. She was fanning herself, and her breath came rapidly, pantingly. Now and then she patted her moist face with a handkerchief. "How warm you are, Olga," said Ruth, who sat beside her. "And you must be dreadfully tired."
In the eagerness to supply herself with additional reasons for hating Percival, she had given her imagination a rather free rein in regard to his relations with Olga Obosky.
The one remaining port-side boat was lowered a few minutes later and to the accompaniment of cheers from the throng that lined the rails, the men pulled away, heading for a tiny cove on the far side of the basin. The shore at that point was sloping and practically clear of undergrowth. It was while Percival was waiting to take his place in the boat that Olga Obosky hurried up to him.
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