He had approached Harlan Thornton with something like
desperation. Under his calmness he had long-hidden, consuming passion
for Madeleine Presson--a love that had grown through the years, and now
waited a fitting time of expression and the endorsement of assured
position. If he had any doubts of the truth of the shameful story he had
brought he concealed those doubts--he would not admit them to himself.
He proposed to win the girl. He chose any weapons that would rout the
interloper.
"I warn you that I shall protect her," he said, from the corridor.
"Take a warning from me, too: you get into my affairs, and you'll find
hell fires cooler!"
"Your affairs do seem to have that flavor," declared Linton, walking
away.
Thornton hurried to the headquarters that the corporations maintained in
the hotel for Spinney. Spinney was not there. He ran back to his room
and telephoned to the clerk of the hotel. He was informed that Mr.
Spinney had gone away for a few days.
It was late, but he threw on his coat and hastened up street to the
Presson home.
Pages:
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496