"It was all that's important. I think it was important and expect you to agree."
"Well, you have carried out your duty and ought to be satisfied," said Barbara, who got up and gave Cartwright a smiling glance. "All the same, if you want a man for an awkward job, I think you can trust Mr. Lister!"
She went off and Cartwright laughed. Barbara was clever. The strange thing was, she had been cheated by a theatrical rogue, but clever girls were sometimes like that. He imagined she liked Lister, but this was perhaps all, since she had been frank. In one sense, Lister was the man for Barbara; he was honest, sober, and resolute, and she needed firm control. The girl was as wild as a hawk, and although she was marked by a fine fastidiousness, would revolt from a narrow-minded prig. Lister was not a prig; his blood was red.
In another sense, perhaps, the thing was ridiculous. Barbara was rich and ought to make a good marriage, but good marriages sometimes brought unhappiness.
Human nature was stubborn; one paid for forcing it to obey the rules of worldly prudence. Then Barbara had a romantic vein. She would risk all for her lover and not grumble if she were forced to pay for her staunchness. Besides, she and Lister had qualities he had not. They were marked by something ascetic, or perhaps he meant Spartan, and if it were worth while, could go without much that he required.
Cartwright admitted that indulgence had cost him dear. He had paid with grim philosophy, but he did not want Barbara to pay. Although she was not his daughter, he loved the girl, and her recent moodiness bothered him. If she did not love Lister, why was she disturbed? Sometimes Cartwright thought he saw a gleam of light. Suppose she did love the fellow and was trying to keep him off because of her Canadian adventure? Lister knew about that and Barbara was proud.
Cartwright's eyes got bloodshot and he clenched his fist. He would very much like to meet Shillito. His muscles were getting slack, but he had not lost all his power; anyhow, he could talk. Well, the thing was humiliating, but he must not get savage. When he let himself go he suffered for it afterwards. Getting up, he threw away his cigar, and went off to talk to his wife.
[CHAPTER X]
[A BOLD SPECULATION]
After weighing for some weeks all he could learn about the wreck on the African coast, Cartwright went to London and was carried up one morning to the second floor of an imposing office block. Black marble columns supported the molded roof of the long passage, the wide stairs were guarded by polished mahogany and shining brass, and a screen of artistic iron work enclosed the elevator shaft. Cartwright's fur coat and gloves and varnished boots harmonized with the surroundings; he looked rich and important, but as he went along the corridor his face was stern. He was going to make a plunge that would mend or break his fortune. Unless he got straight in the next six months, he must retire from the Board and make the best bargain possible with his creditors.