Briggs smiled grimly. “Well, sir, I must say I appreciate your frankness.”
Now that Stone had delivered his warning, the significance of which he knew Briggs would fully appreciate, his manner softened. “I say these things to you because I like you. You’re a credit to the machine. You’ve done mighty well here for a young man. Only don’t forget that it was the machine that made you. That’s the point. Well, it’s about time for me to be going. You’ve got a fine place here. By Jove! I envy you myself.”
Douglas Briggs did not stir. He was thinking hard. The loss of his renomination in the Autumn had not occurred to him even as a possibility. He had believed that, with Stone’s support, he was firmly established in New York.
“It’s very early yet, Mr. Stone,” he remarked, absently, following his guest back into the house.
VII
As this evening marked her first “grown-up party,” Fanny Wallace had entered with delight into the festivities. She had danced nearly all the dances, most of them with Guy Fullerton, who stood at the door of the ballroom and watched her hungrily while she was waltzing with other men. Now she was exhausted, but, in spite of her aunt’s hint, repeated several times, determined not to go to bed. “Let’s go where we can be alone,” she said to Guy. “Then you can fan me till I get a little breath, and entertain me. I’ve done so much talking ever since we got acquainted I actually don’t know whether you can talk or not.”
Guy, who liked her little jokes, even when they were directed against himself, agreed enthusiastically. They passed from room to room, only to find a group of people in each.
“I don’t suppose there’s any use in trying the library,” said Fanny at last, with a sigh. “But perhaps no one’s there. It’s about time people were going home, anyway,” she added, tartly.
On entering the library she uttered a cry of delight. “Not a soul!” she exclaimed. “Isn’t all this leather furniture nice? I just love green leather. I made Auntie promise that she’d have it. Here, you fix this big chair for me, and bring up that foot-rest. Yes, that’s it. Oh, I do wish they wouldn’t make furniture so tall. There, that’s lovely! Now you can sit on that chair—yes, that one, and don’t bring it too near, please. That’s right.” She sank back luxuriously and folded her hands in her lap. “Now you can tell me—let me see, what can you tell me? Oh, talk to me about your life at Harvard. You haven’t told me half enough about that.”