Part 28 (2/2)
exclaimed Noyes.
”You must live in New York.”
”Yes. And you?”
”I generally drift back for the holidays. I've been traveling a good deal for the last ten years.”
”I see. Some sort of research work?”
The way Noyes used that word ”work” made Monte uncomfortable. It was as if he took it for granted that a man who was a man must have a definite occupation.
”I don't know that you would call it exactly that,” answered Monte. ”I 've just been knocking around. I have n't had anything in particular to do. What are you in?”
”Law. I wonder if you're Harvard?”
”Sure thing. And you?”
Noyes named his cla.s.s--a cla.s.s six years later than Monte's.
”Well, we have something in common there, anyhow,” said Covington cordially. ”My father was Harvard Law School. He practiced in Philadelphia.”
”I've always lived in New York. I was born there, and I love it. I like the way it makes you hustle--the challenge to get in and live--”
He stopped abruptly, putting one hand to his eyes.
”They hurt?” asked Monte anxiously.
”You need your eyes in New York,” he answered simply.
”You went in too hard,” suggested Monte.
”Is there any other way?” cried Noyes.
”I used to play football a little,” said Monte. ”I suppose it's something like that--when a man gets the spirit of the thing. When you hit the line you want to feel that you 're putting into it every ounce in you.”
Noyes nodded.
”Into your work--into your life.”
”Into your life?” queried Monte.
”Into everything.”
Monte turned to look at the man. His thin lips had come together in a straight line. His hollow cheeks were flushed. Every sense was as alert as a fencer's. If he had lived long like that, no wonder his eyes had gone bad. Yet last night Monte himself had lived like that, pacing his room hour after hour. Only it was not work that had given a cutting edge to each minute--not life, whatever Noyes meant by that.
His thoughts had all been of a woman. Was that life? Was it what Noyes had meant when he said ”everything”?
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