And the actors and the actresses, the musicians and the lecturers, each
with his press agent and avid for publicity, "fame!" And here were society
women, from New York and other cities, all eager for press notices of
social affairs they had given or managed, charity work they had conducted,
suffrage speeches they had made. Half the women in the land were fairly
talking their heads off, it seemed. Some had been on his lists for years.
They married and wanted to hear what was said in the papers about their
weddings, they quarreled and got divorces and still sent here for
clippings, they died and still their relatives wrote in for the funeral
notices. And even death was commercialized. A maker of monuments wanted
news "of all people of large means, dead or dangerously ill, in the State
of Pennsylvania." Here were demands from charity bodies, hospitals and
colleges, from clergymen with an anxious eye on the Monday morning papers.
And here was an anarchist millionaire! And here was an insane asylum
wanting to see itself in print!
With a grim smile on his heavy visage, Roger stared out of his window.
Slowly the smile faded, a wistful look came on his face.
"Who'll take my business when I'm gone?"
If his small son had only lived, with what new zest and vigor it might have
been made to grow and expand. If only his son had been here by his side....
CHAPTER IX
DEBORAH needed rest, he thought, for the bright attractive face of his
daughter was looking rather pale of late, and the birthmark on her forehead
showed a faint thin line of red.
Pages:
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98