If so, what of Christine?
He smoked as he paced the long veranda. In a dark corner at the lower end, sheltered from the mist by trailing arbutus, a group of three persons from the inexperienced, uncouth North, were drinking juleps served by an impassive but secretly disdainful servant bent with age and, you might say, habitual respect. Jenison did not notice them in his abstraction, but his ears would have burned if he could have heard the things the two women were saying about him to their male companion.
As he passed the broad office door in one of his rounds it was opened and in the full glow of light from within appeared the tall, graceful figure of Roberta Grand. She remained there for a moment, looking out into the sombre night. Their eyes met as he passed. She was exceedingly fair to look upon, golden-haired and spirituelle, but he could see only the repulsive, hated features of Colonel Bob Grand, destroyer.
When he returned to the group at the fireplace, half an hour later, she was sitting with the others, her back toward him as he approached. He was at once presented by the girl from Baltimore.
Miss Grand looked up into his face with cool, indifferent eyes.
"I have heard so much of you, Mr. Jenison," she said. Her voice was soft and pleasant.
"We live in a very small world, Miss Grand," he said. "One's reputation reaches farther than he thinks."
"It depends on the method by which it is carried," she responded enigmatically. He started.
"I trust mine has been delivered by kindly messengers."
"Both kindly and gentle," she said.