Seeing Pauline looking at her, she tilted her head to a graceful angle and sent a radiant glance between two blossom-laden branches of the green and white bush that towered and spread in the center of the table."Mr.Scarborough says," she called out, "character isn't a development, it's a disclosure.He thinks one is born a certain kind of person and that one's life simply either gives it a chance to show or fails to give it a chance.He says the boy isn't father to the man, but the miniature of the man.What do you think, Pauline?""I haven't thought of it," replied Pauline."But I'm certain it's true.I used to dispute Mr.Scarborough's ideas sometimes, but I learned better."As she realized the implications of her careless remark, their eyes met squarely for the first time since Battle Field.Both hastily glanced away, and neither looked at the other again.
When the men came up to the drawing-room to join the women, Gladys adroitly intercepted him.When he went to Pauline to take leave, their manner each toward the other was formal, strained and even distant.
Dumont came again just after the November election.It had been an unexpected victory for the party which Scarborough advocated, and everywhere the talk was that he had been the chief factor--his skill in defining issues, his eloquence in presenting them, the public confidence in his party through the dominance of a man so obviously free from self-seeking or political trickery of any kind.Dumont, to whom control in both party machines and in the state government was a business necessity, told his political agent, Merriweather, that they had "let Scarborough go about far enough," unless he could be brought into their camp.
"I can't make out what he's looking for," said Merriweather.
"One thing's certain--he'll do US no good.There's no way we can get our hooks in him.He don't give a damn for money.And as for power--he can get more of that by fighting us than by falling in line.We ain't exactly popular."This seemed to Dumont rank ingratitude.Had he not just divided a million dollars among charities and educational institutions in the districts where opposition to his "merger" was strongest?
"Well, we'll see," he said."If he isn't careful we'll have to kill him off in convention and make the committees stop his mouth.""The trouble is he's been building up a following of his own--the sort of following that can't be honeyfugled," replied Merriweather."The committees are afraid of him."Merriweather always took the gloomy view of everything, because he thus discounted his failures in advance and doubled the effect of his successes.
"I'll see--I'll see," said Dumont, impatiently.And he thought he was beginning to "see" when Gladys expanded to him upon the subject of Scarborough--his good looks, his wit, his "distinction."Scarborough came to dinner a few evenings later and Dumont was particularly cordial to him; and Gladys made the most of the opportunity which Pauline again gave her.That night, when the others had left or had gone to bed, Gladys followed her brother into the smoke-room adjoining the library.They sat in silence drinking a "night-cap." In the dreaminess of her eyes, in the absent smile drifting round the corners of her full red lips, Gladys showed that her thoughts were pleasant and sentimental.
"What do you think of Scarborough?" her brother asked suddenly.
She started but did not flush--in her long European experience she had gained control of that signal of surprise."How do you mean?" she asked.She rarely answered a question immediately, no matter how simple it was, but usually put another question in reply.Thus she insured herself time to think if time should be necessary.
"I mean, do you like him?"
"Why, certainly.But I've seen him only a few times.""He's an uncommon man," continued her brother."He'd make a mighty satisfactory husband for an ambitious woman, especially one with the money to push him fast."Gladys slowly lifted and slowly lowered her smooth, slender shoulders.
"That sort of thing doesn't interest a woman in a man, unless she's married to him and has got over thinking more about him than about herself.""It ought to," replied her brother."A clever woman can always slosh round in sentimental slop with her head above it and cool.If I were a girl I'd make a dead set for that chap.""If you were a girl," said Gladys, "you'd do nothing of the sort.You'd compel him to make a dead set for you." And as she put down her glass she gave his hair an affectionate pull--which was her way of thanking him for saying what she most wished to hear on the subject she most wished to hear about.
