"Look at me!" he commanded laughingly.
With an effort she forced her eyes to meet his.
"Now—smile, Jane!"
His smile was contagious. The curve of her lips changed; her eyes gleamed.
"Am I not reading your thoughts?" said he.
"You are very clever, Victor," admitted she.
"Good. We are getting on. You believed that, once we were engaged, I would gradually begin to yield, to come round to your way of thinking. You had planned for me a career something like Davy Hull's—only freer and bolder. I would become a member of your class, but would pose as a representative of the class I had personally abandoned. Am I right?"
"Go on, Victor," she said.
"That's about all. Now, there are just two objections to your plan. The first is, it wouldn't work. My associates would be 'on to' me in a very short time. They are shrewd, practical, practically educated men—not at all the sort that follow Davy Hull or are wearing Kelly's and House's nose rings. In a few months I'd find myself a leader without a following—and what is more futile and ridiculous than that?"
"They worship you," said Jane. "They trust you implicitly. They know that whatever you did would be for their good."