Yes, it had been
pretty bad; it had been ugly, ominous. He took paper and pencil and set to
work. How he had come to hate this job of wrestling with figures. Of the
five thousand dollars borrowed in August he had barely a thousand left. The
first semi-annual interest was due next week and must be paid. The balance
would carry them through March and on well into April. By that time he
hoped to be making money, for business was better every week. But what of
this nine hundred dollars in debts? Half at least must be paid at once.
Lower and lower he sank in his chair. But a few moments later, his blunt
heavy visage cleared, and with a little sigh of relief he put away his
papers, turned out the lights and went upstairs. The dark house felt
friendly and comforting now.
In his room he opened the safe in the corner where his collection of
curious rings had lain unnoticed for many months. He drew out a tray, sat
down by the light and began to look them over. At first only small
inanimate objects, gradually as from tray after tray they glittered duskily
up at him, they began to yield their riches as they had so often done
before. Spanish, French, Italian, Bohemian, Hungarian, Russian and Arabian,
rings small and rings enormous, religious rings and magic rings, poison
rings, some black with age for all his careful polishing--again they
stole deep into Roger's imagination with suggestions of the many hands that
had worn them through the centuries, of women kneeling in old churches,
couples in dark crooked streets, adventures, love, hate, jealousy.
Pages:
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296