Part 28 (1/2)
”Does she? But that's not the point. She's made me believe she isn't sure of her--of her feelings toward me. Don't think I blame her. I don't. She's right. If I can't stand up and fight it out and win, without being propped up by my friends, I ought to lose out. I'm not fit to marry any woman--much less her.”
Lord James tugged and twisted at his mustache, and at last brought out his reply: ”Now, I--I say, you look here, old chap, you've got to win this time. It means her, y'know. You must win.”
”Jimmy,” stated Blake, his eyes softening, ”you're the limit!”
”You're not!” flashed back his friend. ”There's no limit to you--to what you can do.”
”Heap of good it does--your saying it,” grumbled Blake.
”This--er--situation won't prevent your calling at the Leslies', I hope.”
”I'm not so sure,” considered Blake. ”Leastways you won't see me there till I begin to think I see a way to figure out this dam.”
Lord James swung a leg over the corner of the desk and proceeded to light a cigarette. Through the haze of the first two puffs he squinted across at the glum face of his friend, and said: ”Don't be an a.s.s. She hasn't told you not to call.”
”No,” admitted Blake. ”Just the same, she said she wouldn't give me any help.”
”That doesn't bar you from calling. The sight of her will keep you keen.”
”I tell you, I'm not going near her house till I think I've a show to make good on this dam.”
”Then you'll lunch with me and make an early call at the Gantrys'. Miss Dolores requested me to give you an urgent invitation.”
”Excuse _me!_” said Blake. ”No High Society in mine.”
”You'll come,” confidently rejoined his friend. ”You owe it to Miss Genevieve.”
Blake frowned and sat for some moments studying the point. Lord James had him fast.
”Guess you've nailed me for once,” he at last admitted. ”Rather have a tooth pulled, though.”
”I say, now, you got along swimmingly at Ruthby.”
”With your father. He wasn't a Chicago society dame.”
”Oh, well, you must make allowances for the madam. Miss Dolores explained to me that 'Vievie has only to meet people in order to be received, but mamma has to keep b.u.t.ting in to arrive--that's why she cultivates her grand air.'”
”No sham about Miss Dolores!” approved Blake.
”Right-o! You'll come, I take it. What if the dragon does have rather a frosty stare for you? She said I might bring you to call. Seriously, Tom, you must learn to meet her without showing that her manner flecks you. Best kind of training for society. As I said just now, you owe it to Miss Genevieve.”
”Well--long as you put it that way,” muttered Blake.
”You'll get along famously with Miss Dolores, I'm sure,” said Lord James. ”She's quite a charming girl,--vivacious and all that, you know.
She's taken quite a fancy to you. The mother is one of those silly climbers who never look below the surface. You have twice my moral stamina, but just because I happen to have a t.i.tle and some polish--”
”Don't try to gloze it over,” cut in Blake. ”Let's have it straight.
You're a thoroughbred. I'm a broncho.”
”Mistaken metaphor,” rejoined his friend. ”I'm a well-bred nonent.i.ty.