"He strikes me as a man who would grant what was wrung from him, while the other—my blond Hercules—gives royally, like a king."
"There's a soul that climbs as by a ladder, and there's a soul that soars naturally as a lark. I don't know that it matters which they do, so long as they both mount upward."
"We shall see."
"What shall we see? I hope you're not up to anything, Vic?"
With another jerk of her hand in the direction of Ashley and Drusilla, she said, "That's the match that should have—"
But the old man was out of his seat. "You must excuse me now, Vic. I've some work to do."
"Yes, be off. Only—"
She put her forefinger on her lips, rolling her eyes under the brim of her extravagant hat with an expression intended to exclude from their pact of confidence not only the other two occupants of the room, but every one else.
Olivia received the reply to her telegram: "Shall arrive in Boston Wednesday night."
Considering it time to bring the purely financial side of the situation under discussion, Madame de Melcourt explained to her niece that she, the Marquise, had nothing to do, in her own person, with the extraordinary person who was about to arrive. Her part would be accomplished when once she had handed over the dot either to Olivia or to her trustees. As the passing of this sum through Miss Guion's hands was to be no more than a formality, the question of trustees was not worth taking up. With the transfer of securities for the amount agreed upon from the one name to the other—a piece of business which would be carried out by Davis & Stern—the Marquise considered that she would have done all for which she could be called upon. Everything else concerned Olivia and her father and Davenant. Her own interest in the young man would be satisfied with a glance of curiosity.