Saul Hartz gave a sharp upthrow of the head.
“Lucky fellow!” The words of the Colossus were almost as quick as thought itself. “Devilish lucky fellow! I do congratulate him—upon my word!” The purr of the gentle voice had a warmth of overtone that in the ear of Helen was delicious. She felt the blood pass over her cheeks in a wave. Such a voice as that must have opened the heart of any woman. He had the power, when he chose, of simulating an intense humanity.
“Won’t you congratulate me?” she ventured.
“Why, of course—of course.” The purr had not changed and yet, in a way that almost impinged on the mysteries of counterpoint, she was made to guess rather than to feel that a vital something was no longer there.
Madness in the mother’s family. Those five words descended upon her from the upper air. Almost in the same instant the open book on her knee slid to the carpet.
She had not time to recover the book before Mr. Hartz was on his feet politely restoring it to her.
“Clever, you know.” He seemed to think aloud. “A mind at work there.” The book was placed loverly in her hand. “Only one hopes——”
Sighing delicately he returned to his chair. His air had now become that of one who has to reconcile a very good heart with the sterner impulses of duty.
“You hope?” She caught up the broken phrase with an eagerness that was a little pitiful.
“Nothing, nothing.”