"No, hang it all, she's _not_ undecided. She's said _no_ every time.
That's why I'm up a tree, so to speak."
"Oh?" was all that Brock said. Of course she couldn't love a creature of
Freddie's stamp! He gloated!
"'Gad, you're a lucky dog, Roxbury," went on Freddie enviously. "Money
isn't everything. You're married to one of the prettiest and most
fascinating women in the world. She's a wonder. You can't blame me for
wanting your wife as a sister-in-law. Now, can you? And that kid! You
lucky dog!"
CHAPTER V
THE FRIENDS OF THE FAMILY
Brock discovered in due time that he was living in a lofty but uncertain
place, among the clouds of exaltation. It was not until the close of the
succeeding day that he began to lower himself grudgingly from the height
to which Freddie's ill-mannered confession had led him. By that time he
satisfactorily had convinced himself that no one but a fool could have
suspected Constance of being in love with Ulstervelt; and yet, on the
other hand, was he any better off for this cheerful argument? There was
nothing to prove that she cared for him, notwithstanding this agreeable
conclusion by contrast. As a matter of fact, he came earthward with a
rush, weighted down by the conviction that she did not care a rap for
him except as a conveniently moral brother-in-law. He was further
distressed by Edith's comfortless, though perhaps well-qualified,
announcement that she believed her sister to be in love; she could not
imagine with whom; she only knew she "acted as if she were.
Pages:
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89