He was anxious for her to cultivate a few of his intimate friends, but this crowd of strange men and women bored him.
He was especially anxious that she should meet Overman, and by her magnetism and beauty crush him into the acknowledgment of the sanity and right of his course.
But Overman had promised without coming.
Gordon was at his bank on Wall Street again urging him to call.
“It’s no use to talk, Frank,” he said, testily. “All I ask of women is to be let alone.”
“But, you fool, I want you to meet my wife. She’s not a woman merely. She’s the wife of an old college chum, the better half by far.”
Overman pulled his moustache, a humorous twinkle in his eye.
“Well, how many halves are there to you? I’ve met the other half once before. This makes one and a half,” he said, peering at his friend with his single eye.
Gordon laughed.
“Yes, I am large.”