“Will father be interested in those things?”
“Silently. You understand, that being president of the railroad, your father must keep in the background. The actual promoting of these enterprises will be done by me.”
Miss Benham looked dreamily out of the window. Then she turned to Corrigan and gazed at him meditatively, though the expression in her eyes was so obviously impersonal that it chilled any amorous emotion that Corrigan might have felt.
“I suppose you are right,” she said. “It must be thrilling to feel a conscious power over the destiny of a community, to direct its progress, to manage it, and—er—figuratively to grab industries by their—” She looked slyly at Agatha “—lower extremities and shake the dollars out of them. Yes,” she added, with a wistful glance through the window; “that must be more exciting than being merely in love.”
Agatha again followed Rosalind’s gaze and saw the black horse standing in front of a store. She frowned, and observed stiffly:
“It seems to me that the people in these small places—such as Manti—are not capable of managing the large enterprises that Mr. Corrigan speaks of.” She looked at Rosalind, and the girl knew that she was deprecating the rider of the black horse. Rosalind smiled sweetly.
“Oh, I am sure there must be some intelligent persons among them!”
“As a rule,” stated Corrigan, dogmatically, “the first citizens of any town are an uncouth and worthless set.”
“The Four Hundred would take exception to that!” laughed Rosalind.
Corrigan laughed with her. “You know what I mean, of course. Take Manti, for instance. Or any new western town. The lowest elements of society are represented; most of the people are very ignorant and criminal.”