Take it from me I know his brand. And he isn't the kind to be
pushed."
"Who wants to push him?" Roger demanded, with a sudden guilty twinge.
"Edith does," Bruce answered. "And I tell you that won't do with A. Baird.
He has his mind set on Deborah sure. He's been setting it harder and harder
for months--and he knows it--and so does she. But they're both the kind of
people who don't like interference, they've got to get to it by themselves.
Edith must keep out of the way. She mustn't take it on herself to ask him
up to the mountains." Roger gave a little start. "If she does, there'll be
trouble with Deborah."
Roger smoked for a moment in silence and then sagely nodded his head.
"That's so," he murmured thoughtfully. "Yes, my boy, I guess you're right."
Bruce lifted his mint julep:
"God, but it's hot in here to-night. How about taking a spin up the river?"
"Delighted," replied his father-in-law.
And a half hour later in Bruce's new car, which was the pride and joy of
his life, they were far up the river. On a long level stretch of road Bruce
"let her out to show what she could do." And Roger with his heart in his
mouth and his eye upon the speedometer, saw it creep to sixty-three.
"Almost as good as a horse," remarked Bruce, when the car had slowed a
little.
"Almost," said Roger, "but not quite. It's--well, it's dissipation."
"And a horse?"
"Is life," was the grave reply.
Pages:
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138