by Louis Tracy
CHAPTER III
WHEREIN TWO PEOPLE BECOME BETTER ACQUAINTED
Mackenzie, of course, was aware that Miss Wynton would leave Londonby the eleven o'clock train on Thursday, and Spencer saw no harm inwitnessing her departure. He found a good deal of quiet fun in notingher animated expression and businesslike air. Her whole-souledenjoyment of novel surroundings was an asset for the outlay of histwo hundred pounds, and he had fully and finally excused that pieceof extravagance until he caught sight of Bower strolling along theplatform with the easy confidence of one who knew exactly whom hewould meet and how he would account for his unbidden presence.
Spencer at once suspected the man's motives, not without fair cause.They were, he thought, as plain to him as they were hidden from thegirl. Bower counterfeited the genuine surprise on Helen's face withadmirable skill; but, to the startled onlooker, peering beneath theactor's mask, his stagy artifice was laid bare.
And Spencer was quite helpless, a condition that irritated him almostbeyond control. He had absolutely no grounds for interference. Hecould only glower angrily and in silence at a meeting he could notprevent. Conjecture might run riot as to the causes which had giventhis sinister bend to an idyl, but perforce he must remain dumb.
From one point of view, it was lucky that Helen's self appointed"godfather" was in a position not to misjudge her; from another, itwould have been better for Spencer's peace of mind were he left inignorance of the trap that was apparently being laid for her. PerhapsFate had planned this thing--having lately smiled on the American, shemay have determined to plague him somewhat. At any rate, in thatinstant the whole trend of his purpose took a new turn. From a generalbelief that he would never again set eyes on one in whose fortunes hefelt a transient interest, his intent swerved to a fixed resolve toprotect her from Bower. It would have puzzled him to assign a motivefor his dislike of the man. But the feeling was there, strong andactive. It even gave him a certain satisfaction to remember that hewas hostile to Bower before he had seen him.
Indeed, he nearly yielded to the momentary impulse that bade himhasten to the booking office and secure a ticket for St. Moritzforthwith. He dismissed the notion as quixotic and unnecessary.Bower's attitude in not pressing his company on Miss Wynton at thisinitial stage of the journey revealed a subtlety that demanded equalrestraint on Spencer's part. Helen herself was so far from suspectingthe truth that Bower would be compelled to keep up the pretense of acasual rencontre. Nevertheless, Spencer's chivalric nature was stirredto the depths. The conversation overheard in the Embankment Hotel hadgiven him a knowledge of the characteristics of two women that wouldhave amazed both of them were they told of it. He was able to measuretoo the exact extent of Bower's acquaintance with Helen, while he wasconfident that the relationship between Bower and Millicent Jaques hadgone a great deal further than might be inferred from the actress'scurt statement that he was one whom she "wished to avoid." These twoextremes could be reconciled only by a most unfavorable estimate ofBower, and that the American conceded without argument.
Of course, there remained the possibility that Bower was really atraveler that day by idle chance; but Spencer blew aside thisalternative with the first whiff of smoke from the cigar he litmechanically as soon as the train left the station.
"No," he said, in grim self communing, "the skunk found out somehowthat she was going abroad, and planned to accompany her. I could seeit in the smirk on his face as soon as he discovered her whereaboutson the platform. If he means to summer at Maloja, I guess my thousanddollars was expended to no good purpose, and the quicker I put upanother thousand to pull things straight the happier I shall be. Andlet me tell you, mother, that if I get Helen through this businesswell and happy, I shall quit fooling round as godfather, or stageuncle, or any other sort of soft-hearted idiot. Meanwhile, Bower hasjumped my claim."
His glance happened to fall on an official with the legend "TicketInspector" on the collar of his coat. He remembered that this man, orsome other closely resembling him, had visited the carriage in whichBower traveled.
"Say," he cried, hailing him on the spur of the moment, "when does thenext train leave for St. Moritz?"
"At two-twenty from Charing Cross, sir. But the Engadine Express isthe best one. Did you miss it?"
"No. I just blew in here to see a friend off, and the trip kind ofappealed to me. Did you notice a reserved compartment for a Mr. MarkBower?"
"I know Mr. Bower very well, sir. He goes to Paris or Vienna twentytimes a year."
"To-day he is going to Switzerland."
"So he is, to Zurich, I think. First single he had. But he's sure tobring up in Vienna or Frankfort. I wish I knew half what he knowsabout foreign money business. I shouldn't be punching tickets herevery long. Thank you, sir. Charing Cross at two-twenty; but you mayhave difficulty about booking a berth in the sleeper. Just noweverybody is crossing the Channel."
"It looks like that," said Spencer, who had obtained the informationhe wanted. Taking a cab, he drove to the sleeping car company'soffice, where he asked for a map of the Swiss railways. Zurich, asBower's destination, puzzled him; but he did not falter in hispurpose.
"The man is a rogue," he thought, "or I have never seen one. Anyhow, anight in the train doesn't cut any ice, and Switzerland can fill thebill for a week as well as London or Scotland."
He was fortunate in the fact that some person wished to postpone ajourney that day, and the accident assured him of comfortable quartersfrom Calais onward. Then he drove to a bank, and to "The Firefly"office. Mackenzie had just opened his second bottle of beer. By thistime he regarded Spencer as an amiable lunatic. He greeted him nowwith as much glee as his dreary nature was capable of.
"Hello!" he said. "Been to see the last of the lady?"
"Not quite. I want to take back what I said about not going toSwitzerland. I'm following this afternoon."
"Great Scott! You're sudden."
"I'm built that way," said Spencer dryly. "Here are the sixty poundsI promised you. Now I want you to do me a favor. Send a messenger tothe Wellington Theater with a note for Miss Millicent Jaques, and askher if she can oblige you with the present address of Miss HelenWynton. Make a pretext of work. No matter if she writes to her friendand the inquiry leads to talk. You can put up a suitable fairy tale, Ihave no doubt."
"Better still, let my assistant write. Then if necessary I can cursehim for not minding his own business. But what's in the wind?"
"I wish to find out whether or not Miss Jaques knows of this Swissjourney; that is all. If the reply reaches you by one o'clock send itto the Embankment Hotel. Otherwise, post it to me at the Kursaal,Maloja-Kulm; but not in an office envelop."
"You'll come back, Mr. Spencer?" said the editor plaintively, for hehad visions of persuading the eccentric American to start a magazineof his own.
"Oh, yes. You'll probably see me again within six days. I'll look inand report progress. Good by."
A messenger caught him as he was leaving the hotel. Mackenzie had notlost any time, and Miss Jaques happened to be at the theater.
"Sorry," she wrote, in the artistic script that looks so well in facecream and soap advertisements, "I can't for the life of me rememberthe number; but Miss Wynton lives somewhere in Warburton Gardens." Thesignature, "Millicent Jaques," was an elegant thing in itself,carefully thought out and never hurried in execution, no matter howpressed she might be for time. Spencer was on the point of scatteringthe note in little pieces along the Strand; but he checked himself.
"Guess I'll keep this as a souvenir," he said, and it found a place inhis pocketbook.
Helen Wynton, having crossed the Channel many times during herchildhood, was no novice amid the bustle and crush on the narrow pierat Dover. She had dispensed with all accessories for the journey,except the few articles that could be crammed into a handbag. Thus,being independent of porters, she was one of the first to reach thesteamer's gangway. As usual, all the most sheltered nooks on boardwere occupied. There seems to be a mysterious type o
f traveler whoinhabits the cross-Channel vessels permanently. No matter how speedymay be the movements of a passenger by the boat-train, either at Doveror Calais, the best seats on the upper deck invariably reveal thepresence of earlier arrivals by deposits of wraps and packages. Thisphenomenon was not strange to Helen. A more baffling circumstance wasthe altered shape of the ship. The familiar lines of the paddlesteamer were gone, and Helen was wondering where she might best bestowherself and her tiny valise, when she heard Bower's voice.
"I took the precaution to telegraph from London to one of the ship'sofficers," he said, and nodded toward a couple of waterproof rugswhich guarded a recess behind the Captain's cabin. "That is ourcorner, I expect. My friend will be here in a moment."
Sure enough, a man in uniform approached and lifted his gold lacedcap. "We have a rather crowded ship, Mr. Bower," he said; "but youwill be quite comfortable there. I suppose you deemed the weather toofine to need your usual cabin?"
"Yes. I have a companion to-day, you see."
Helen was a little bewildered by this; but it was very pleasant toclaim undisputed possession of a quiet retreat from which to watchothers trying to find chairs. And, although Bower had a place reservedby her side, he did not sit down. He chatted for a few minutes on sucheminently safe topics as the smooth sea, the superiority of turbineengines in the matter of steadiness, the advisability of lunchingin the train after leaving Calais, rather than on board the ship,and soon betook himself aft, there to smoke and chat with someacquaintances whom he fell in with. Dover Castle was becoming a grayblur on the horizon when he spoke to Helen again.
"You look quite comfortable," he said pleasantly, "and it is wise notto risk walking about if you are afraid of being ill."
"I used to cross in bad weather without consequences," she answered;"but I am older now, and am doubtful of experiments."
"You were educated abroad, then?"
"Yes. I was three years in Brussels--three happy years."
"Ah! Why qualify them? All your years are happy, I should imagine, ifI may judge by appearances."
"Well, if happiness can be defined as contentment, you are right; butI have had my sad periods too, Mr. Bower. I lost my mother when I waseighteen, and that was a blow under which I have never ceased towince. Fortunately, I had to seek consolation in work. Added to goodhealth, it makes for content."
"You are quite a philosopher. Will you pardon my curiosity? I too leadthe strenuous life. Now, I should like to have your definition ofwork. I am not questioning your capacity. My wonder is that you shouldmention it at all."
"But why? Any man who knows what toil is should not regard women asdolls."
"I prefer to look on them as goddesses."
Helen smiled. "I fear, then, you will deem my pedestal a sorry one,"she said. "Perhaps you think, because you met me once in Miss Jaques'scompany, and again here, traveling _de luxe_, that I am in her set. Iam not. By courtesy I am called a 'secretary'; but the title might beshortened into 'typist.' I help Professor von Eulenberg withhis--scientific researches."
Though it was on the tip of her tongue to say "beetles," shesubstituted the more dignified phrase. Bower was very nice and kind;but she felt that "beetles" might sound somewhat flippant and lend atoo familiar tone to their conversation.
"Von Eulenberg? I have heard of him. Quite a distinguished man in hisown line; an authority on--moths, is it?"
"Insects generally."
She blushed and laughed outright, not only at the boomerang effect ofher grandiloquent description of the professor's industry, but at theabsurdity of her position. Above all else, Helen was candid, and therewas no reason why she should not enlighten a comparative stranger whoseemed to take a friendly interest in her.
"I ought to explain," she went on, "that I am going to the Engadine asa journalist. I have had the good fortune to be chosen for a verypleasant task. Hence this present grandeur, which, I assure you, isnot a usual condition of entomological secretaries."
Bower pretended to ward off some unexpected attack. "I have donenothing to deserve a hard word like that, Miss Wynton," he cried. "Ishall not recover till we reach Calais. May I sit beside you while youtell me what it means?"
She made room for him. "Strictly speaking, it is nonsense," she said.
"Excellent. That is the better line for women who are young andpretty. We jaded men of the world hate to be serious when we leavebusiness behind. Now, you would scarce credit what a lively youngsterI am when I come abroad for a holiday. I always kiss my fingers toFrance at the first sight of her fair face. She bubbles like her ownchampagne, whereas London invariably reminds me of beer."
"Do I take it that you prefer gas to froth?"
"You offer me difficult alternatives, yet I accept them. Though gasis as dreadful a description of champagne as entomological is of acertain type of secretary, I would venture to point out that itexpands, effervesces, soars ever to greater heights; but beer, frothand all, tends to become flat, stale, and unprofitable."
"I assure you my knowledge of both is limited. I had never even tastedchampagne until the other day."
"When you lunched with Millicent at the Embankment Hotel?"
"Well--yes. She was at school with me, and we met last week byaccident. She is making quite a success at the Wellington Theater, isshe not?"
"So I hear. I am a director of that concern; but I seldom go there."
"How odd that sounds to one who saves up her pennies to attend afavorite play!"
"Then you must have my address, and when I am in town you need neverwant a stall at any theater in London. Now, that is no idle promise. Imean it. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to think youwere enjoying something through my instrumentality."
"How exceedingly kind of you! I shall take you at your word. What girlwouldn't?"
"I know quite a number who regard me as an ogre. I am not a lady's manin the general sense of the term, Miss Wynton. I might tell you moreabout myself if it were not for signs that the next five minutes willbring us to Calais. You are far too independent, I suppose, that Ishould offer to carry your bag; but will you allow me to reservea joint table for _dejeuner_? There will be a rush for the firstservice, which is the best, as a rule, and I have friends at court onthis line. Please don't say you are not hungry."
"That would be impolite, and horribly untrue," laughed Helen.
He took the implied permission, and hurried away. They did not meetagain until he came to her carriage in the train.
"Is this where you are?" he cried, looking up at her through the openwindow. "I am in the next block, as they say in America. When you areready I shall take you to the dining car. Come out on the platform.The corridors are simply impassable. And here are baskets of peaches,and ripe pears, and all manner of pleasant fruits. Yes, try thecorridor to the right, and charge resolutely. If you inflict themaximum injury on others, you seldom damage yourself."
In a word, Mark Bower spoke as lightheartedly as he professed to feel,and Helen had no cause whatever to be other than thankful for thechance that brought him to Switzerland on the same day and in the sametrain as herself. His delicate consideration for her well being wasmanifested in many ways. That such a man, whom she knew to be a figureof importance in the financial world, should take an interest in thesimple chronicles of her past life was a flattering thing in itself.He listened sympathetically to the story of her struggles since thedeath of her mother. The consequent stoppage of the annuity paid tothe widow of an Indian civilian rendered it necessary that Helenshould supplement by her own efforts the fifty pounds a year allottedto her "until death or marriage."
"There are plenty of country districts where I could exist quiteeasily on such a sum," she said; "but I declined to be buried alive inthat fashion, and I made up my mind to earn my own living. Somehow,London appeals to young people situated as I was. It is there that thegreat prizes are to be gained; so I came to London."
"From----" broke in Bower, who was peeling one of the peaches boughtat Ca
lais.
"From a village near Sheringham, in Norfolk."
He nodded with smiling comprehension when she detailed her struggleswith editors who could detect no originality in her literary work.
"But that phase has passed now," he said encouragingly.
"Well, it looks like it. I hope so; for I am tired of classifyingbeetles."
There--the word was out at last. Perhaps Bower wondered why shelaughed and blushed at the recollection of her earlier determinationto suppress von Eulenberg's "specimens" as a topic of conversation.Already the stiffness of their talk on board the steamship seemed tohave vanished completely. It was really a pleasant way of passing thetime to sit and chat in this glass palace while the train skimmed overa dull land of marshes and poplars.
"Beetles, though apt to be flighty, are otherwise dull creatures," hesaid. "May I ask what paper you are representing on your presenttour?"
It was an obvious and harmless question; but Helen was loyal to herbond. "It sounds absurd to have to say it, but I am pledged tosecrecy," she answered.
"Good gracious! Don't tell me you intend to interview anarchists,or runaway queens, or the other disgruntled people who live inSwitzerland. Moreover, they usually find quarters in Geneva, whileyou presumably are bound for the Engadine."
"Oh, no. My work lies in less excitable circles. 'Life in a Swisshotel' would be nearer the mark."
"Apart from the unusual surroundings, you will find it suspiciouslylike life in a quiet Norfolk village, Miss Wynton," said Bower. Hepaused, tasted the peach, and made a grimace. "Sour!" he protested."Really, when all is said and done, the only place in which one canbuy a decent peach is London."
"Ah, a distinct score for Britain!"
"And a fair hit to your credit. Let me urge in self defense that iflife in France bubbles, it occasionally leaves a bitter taste in themouth. Now you shall go and read, and sleep a little perhaps, if thatis not a heretical thing to suggest. We have the same table forafternoon tea and dinner."
Helen had never met such a versatile man. He talked of most thingswith knowledge and restraint and some humor. She could not helpadmitting that the journey would have been exceedingly dull withouthis companionship, and he had the tact to make her feel that he wasequally indebted to her for passing the long hours. At dinner shenoticed that they were served with dishes not supplied to others inthe dining car.
"I hope you have not been ordering a dreadfully expensive meal," sheventured to say. "I must pay my share, you know, and I am quite aneconomical person."
"There!" he vowed. "That is the first unkind word you have uttered.Surely you will not refuse to be my guest? Indeed, I was hoping thatto-day marked the beginning of a new era, wherein we might meet attimes and criticize humanity to our hearts' content."
"I should feel unhappy if I did not pay," she insisted.
"Well, then, I shall charge you table d'hote prices. Will that contentyou?"
So, when the attendant came to the other tables, Helen produced herpurse, and Bower solemnly accepted her few francs; but no bill waspresented to him.
"You see," he said, smiling at her through a glass of golden wine,"you have missed a great opportunity. Not one woman in a million cansay that she has dined at the railway company's expense in France."
She was puzzled. His manner had become slightly more confidentialduring the meal. It needed no feminine intuition to realize that headmired her. Excitement, the sea air, the heated atmosphere, andunceasing onrush of the train, had flushed her cheeks and lent adeeper shade to her brown eyes. She knew that Bower's was not theonly glance that dwelt on her with a curious and somewhat unnervingappraisement. Other men, and not a few women, stared at her. Themirror in her dressing room had told her that she was looking herbest, and her heart fluttered a little at the thought that she hadsucceeded, without effort, in winning the appreciation of a man highlyplaced in the world of fashion and finance. The conceit induced an oddfeeling of embarrassment. To dispel it she took up his words in a veinof playful sarcasm.
"If you assure me that for some unexplained reason the railwayauthorities are giving us this excellent dinner for nothing, pleasereturn my money," she said.
"The gifts of the gods, and eke of railway companies, must be takenwithout question," he answered. "No, I shall keep your pieces ofsilver. I mean to invest them. It will amuse me to learn how much Ican make on an initial capital of twelve francs, fifty centimes. Willyou allow that? I shall be scrupulously accurate, and submit anaudited account at Christmas. Even my worst enemies have never allegeddishonesty against me. Is it a bargain?"
"Y-yes," she stammered confusedly, hardly knowing what he meant. Hewas leaning over the small table and looking steadfastly at her. Shenoticed that the wine and food had made his skin greasy. It suddenlyoccurred to her that Mark Bower resembled certain exotic plants whichmust be viewed from a distance if they would gratify the criticalsenses. The gloss of a careful toilet was gone. He was altogethercruder, coarser, more animal, since he had eaten, though hisconsumption of wine was quite moderate. His big, rather fierceeyes were more than prominent now; they bulged. Certain Jewishcharacteristics in his face had become accentuated. She remembered theancient habit of anointing with oil, and laughed at the thought, forthat was a little trick of hers to conceal nervousness.
"You doubt me, then?" he half whispered. "Or do you deem it beyond thepower of finance to convert so small a sum into hundreds--it may bethousands--of pounds in six months?"
"Indeed I should credit you with ability to do that and more, Mr.Bower," she said; "but I was wondering why you made such an offer to amere acquaintance,--one whom it is more than likely you will nevermeet again."
The phrase had a harsh and awkward sound in her ears. Bower, to herrelief, seemed to ignore it.
"It is permissible to gratify an impulse once in awhile," hecountered. "And not to mention the audited accounts, there was amatter of theater tickets that should serve to bring us togetheragain. Won't you give me your address, in London if not inSwitzerland? Here is mine."
He produced a pocketbook, and picked out a card. It bore his name andhis club. He added, in pencil, "50 Hamilton Place."
"Letters sent to my house reach me, no matter where I may happen tobe," he said.
The incident brought fresh tremors to Helen. Indeed, the penciledaddress came as an unpleasant shock; for Millicent Jaques, on the daythey met in Piccadilly, having gone home with Helen to tea, excused anearly departure on the ground that she was due to dinner at that veryhouse.
But she took the card, and strove desperately to appear at ease, forshe had no cause to quarrel with one whose manners were so courteous.
"Thank you very much," she said. "If you care to see my articles inthe--in the paper, I shall send you copies. Now I must say good by. Iam rather tired. Before I go let me say how deeply indebted I feel foryour kindness to-day."
She rose. Bower stood up too, and bowed with smiling deference. "Goodnight," he said. "You will not be disturbed by the customs people atthe frontier. I have arranged all that."
Helen made the best of her way along the swaying corridors till shereached her section of the sleeping car; but Bower resumed his seat atthe table. He ordered a glass of fine champagne and held it up to thelight. There was a decided frown on his strong face, and the attendantwho served him imagined that there was something wrong with theliqueur.
"_N'est-ce pas bon, m'sieur?_" he began.
"Will you go to the devil?" said Bower, speaking very slowly withoutlooking at him.
"_Oui, m'sieur, Je vous assure_," and the man disappeared.
It was not the wine, but the woman, that was perplexing him. Not oftenhad the lure of gold failed so signally. And why was she so manifestlystartled at the last moment? Had he gone too far? Was he mistaken inthe assumption that Millicent Jaques had said little or nothingconcerning him to her friend? And this commission too,--there wereinexplicable features about it. He knew a great deal of the ways ofnewspapers, daily and weekly, and it was
not the journalistic habit tosend inexperienced young women on costly journeys to write up Swisssummer resorts.
He frowned still more deeply as he thought of the Maloja-Kulm Hotel,for Helen had innocently affixed a label bearing her address on herhandbag. He peopled it with dozens of smart young men and not a fewolder beaux of his own type. His features relaxed somewhat when heremembered the women. Helen was alone, and far too good-looking tocommand sympathy. There should be the elements of trouble in thatquarter. If he played his cards well, and he had no reason to doubthis skill, Helen should greet him as her best friend when he surprisedher by appearing unexpectedly at the Maloja-Kulm.
Then he waxed critical. She was young, and lively, and unquestionablypretty; but was she worth all this planning and contriving? She was byway of being a prude too, and held serious notions of women's place inthe scheme of things. At any rate, the day's hunting had not broughthim far out of his path, Frankfort being his real objective, and hewould make up his mind later. Perhaps she would remove all obstaclesby writing to him on her return to London; but the recollection of herfrank, clear gaze, of lips that were molded for strength as well assweetness, of the dignity and grace with which the well shaped headwas poised on a white firm neck, warned him that such a woman mightsurrender to love, but never to greed.
Then he laughed, and ordered another liqueur, and drank a toast toto-morrow, when all things come to pass for the man who knows how tocontrive to-day.
In the early morning, at Basle, he awoke, and was somewhat angry withhimself when he found that his thoughts still dwelt on Helen Wynton.In the cold gray glimmer of dawn, and after the unpleasant shaking hispampered body had received all night, some of the romance of thislatest quest had evaporated. He was stiff and weary, and he regrettedthe whim that had led him a good twelve hours astray. But he rousedhimself and dressed with care. Some twenty minutes short of Zurich hesent an attendant to Miss Wynton's berth to inquire if she would joinhim for early coffee at that station, there being a wait of a quarterof an hour before the train went on to Coire.
Helen, who was up and dressed, said she would be delighted. She toohad been thinking, and, being a healthy-minded and kind-hearted girl,had come to the conclusion that her abrupt departure the previousnight was wholly uncalled for and ungracious.
So it was with a smiling face that she awaited Bower on the steps ofher carriage. She shook hands with him cordially, did not object inthe least degree when he seized her arm to pilot her through a noisycrowd of foreigners, and laughed with utmost cheerfulness when theyboth failed to drink some extraordinarily hot coffee served in glassesthat seemed to be hotter still.
Helen had the rare distinction of being quite as bright and pleasingto the eye in the searching light of the sun's first rays as at anyother hour. Bower, though spruce and dandified, looked rather worn.
"I did not sleep well," he explained. "And the rails to the frontieron this line are the worst laid in Europe."
"It is early yet," she said. "Why not turn in again when you reachyour hotel?"
"Perish the thought!" he cried. "I shall wander disconsolate by theside of the lake. Please say you will miss me at breakfast. And, bythe way, you will find a table specially set apart for you. I supposeyou change at Coire?"
"How kind and thoughtful you are. Yes, I am going to the Engadine, youknow."
"Well, give my greetings to the high Alps. I have climbed most of themin my time. More improbable things have happened than that I may renewthe acquaintance with some of my old friends this year. What fun ifyou and I met on the Matterhorn or Jungfrau! But they are far awayfrom the valley of the inn, and perhaps you do not climb."
"I have never had the opportunity; but I mean to try. Moreover, it ispart of my undertaking."
"Then may we soon be tied to the same rope!"
Thus they parted, with cheery words, and, on Helen's side, a genuinewish that they might renew a pleasant acquaintance. Bower waited onthe platform to see the last of her as the train steamed away.
"Yes, it is worth while," he muttered, when the white feathers on herhat were no longer visible. He did not go to the lake, but to thetelegraph office, and there he wrote two long messages, which herevised carefully, and copied. Yet he frowned again, even while he waspaying for their transmission. Never before had he taken such pains towin any woman's regard. And the knowledge vexed him, for the taking ofpains was not his way with women.
