"I offered her my heart and my music," he had said, "they are worth more than anything she may possess."
"Yes, yes—you—and your genius but—your people are not our people," Mrs. Hamilton had murmured with the softness of a purring pussy.
Frank Weston's face had turned paler if possible than usual, and he walked away without answering. The iron had entered into his soul. But in spite of this he still loved his first love, though her name had never again passed his lips, and he hated other women because of her. No other should spurn him, and though many had wished to marry him, he had never asked any. His music was the gainer, for after that people said Frank Weston was inspired in his pathetic movements, and now Toney was going to play with fire.
Frank Weston's face was one not to be easily forgotten. His features seemed to be cut in alabaster, his hair reached his coat collar in soft curling fashion, but there was no affectation about him. He was far too true a genius to descend to small advertisements. Music was his only interest in life, but even a dreamy genius stood no chance with Toney. She piloted him out of the station and both stood by the side of the dog-cart. Frank Weston looked round hopelessly. He could not drive, and looking down at the slight girlish figure he doubted if she could, when he saw Jim holding the thorough-bred. Toney answered his look.
"Oh, yes, I'll drive you. There's a dry place for your violin. You can trust me. This is my own horse and we understand each other. It's awfully good of you to come to us. You don't usually, do you, but I did so particularly want you." Frank Weston gradually took in the situation.
"My agent said a Miss Whitburn—wanted——"
Toney jumped in and he had to follow.
"Yes, that's all right, that's me. When your agent said, 'It will only be a big price that will tempt him,' I said, 'Go ahead!'" Toney spoke so simply that Mr. Weston smiled.
"I may as well own it at once," he said. "It was the money that tempted me. There is a poor friend of mine whose career is cut short in a terrible manner. He has creeping paralysis coming on from over-work. He's too young for the charitable societies to come to his help, so——"
"So you are going to do it! Oh, isn't that lovely! I am glad you told me, I'll just double the fee if that will set him up."