“Mr. Colwell, it is 93 or nothing.” She was almost pale at her own boldness. It really seemed to her as if the price had only been waiting for her to sell out in order to advance. And though she wanted the bonds, she did not feel like yielding.
“Then I very much fear it will have to be nothing.”
“Er—good morning, Mr. Colwell,” on the verge of tears.
“Good morning, Mrs. Hunt.” And before he knew it, forgetting all that had gone before, he added: “Should you change your mind, I should be glad to——”
“I know I wouldn’t pay more than 93 if I lived to be a thousand years.” She looked expectantly at him, to see if he had repented, and she smiled—the smile that is a woman’s last resort, that says, almost articulately: “I know you will, of course, do as I ask. My question is only a formality. I know your nobility, and I fear not.” But he only bowed her out, very politely.
On the Stock Exchange the price of Man. Elec. L. H. & P. Co. 5s rose steadily. Mrs. Hunt, too indignant to feel lachrymose, discussed the subject with her Cousin Emily and her husband. Emily was very much interested. Between her and Mrs. Hunt they forced the poor man to make strange admissions, and, deliberately ignoring his feeble protests, they worked themselves up to the point of believing that, while it would be merely generous of Mr. Colwell to let his friend’s widow have the bonds at 93, it would be only his obvious duty to let her have them at 96½. The moment they reached this decision Mrs. Hunt knew how to act. And the more she thought the more indignant she became. The next morning she called on her late husband’s executor and friend.
Her face wore the look often seen on those ardent souls who think their sacred and inalienable rights have been trampled upon by the tyrant Man, but who at the same time feel certain the hour of retribution is near.
“Good morning, Mr. Colwell. I came to find out exactly what you propose to do about my bonds.” Her voice conveyed the impression that she expected violent opposition, perhaps even bad language, from him.
“Good morning, Mrs. Hunt. Why, what do you mean?”
His affected ignorance deepened the lines on her face. Instead of bluster he was using finesse!