But quite
unconsciously Thomas himself had taken these doubts out of Killigrew's
mind and--mislaid them. The subscriptions to all the suffragette
weeklies and monthlies were dropped; and there were no more banners
reading "Votes for Women" tacked over the doorways. Besides this, the
merchant had a man to talk to, after dinner, he with his cigar and
Thomas with his pipe, this privilege being insisted upon by the women
folk, who had tact to leave the two men to themselves.
Thomas amused the millionaire. Here was a young man of a species with
whom he had not come into contact in many years: a boy who did not know
the first thing about poker, or bridge, or pinochle, who played
outrageous billiards and who did not know who the latest reigning
theatrical beauty was, and moreover, did not care a rap; who could
understand a joke within reasonable time if he couldn't tell one; who
was neither a nincompoop nor a mollycoddle. Thomas interested
Killigrew more and more as the days went past.
Happily, the voice of conscience is heard by no ears but one's own.
Pages:
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107