The Grafters by Francis Lynde
page 24 of 360 (06%)
page 24 of 360 (06%)
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"We dug up the field of recollection pretty thoroughly in our after-dinner séance in your rooms, David, but I noticed there was one corner of it you left undisturbed. Was there any good reason?" Kent made no show of misunderstanding. "There was the excellent reason which must have been apparent to you before you had been an hour in Gaston. I've made my shot, and missed." Loring entered the breach with his shield held well to the fore. He was the last man in the world to assault a friend's confidence recklessly. "I thought a good while ago, and I still think, that you are making a mountain out of a mole-hill, David. Elinor Brentwood is a true woman in every inch of her. She is as much above caring for false notions of caste as you ought to be." "I know her nobility: which is all the more reason why I shouldn't take advantage of it. We may scoff at the social inequalities as much as we please, but we can't laugh them out of court. As between a young woman who is an heiress in her own right, and a briefless lawyer, there are differences which a decent man is bound to efface. And I haven't been able." "Does Miss Brentwood know?" "She knows nothing at all. I was unwilling to entangle her, even with a confidence." |
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