Fairfax and His Pride: A Novel

by Marie Van Vorst

Fairfax, his head thrown back, smoked thoughtfully, and Rainsford noted the youthfulness of the line of his neck and face, the high idealism of the brow, the beautiful mouth, the breeding and the sensitiveness there.

"Why, it's a crime, that's what it is. You are young, you're a boy. Thank God for it, it is not too late. Would you care to tell me what brought you here like this?

I won't say what misfortune brought you here, Fairfax,"—he put his nervous hand to his lips—"but what folly on your part."

Rainsford took for granted the ordinary reasons for hard luck and the harvest of wild oats.

Fairfax said, "I have no people, Rainsford; they are all dead."

"But you have influential friends?"

"No," said Fairfax, "not one."

"You have extraordinary talent, Fairfax."

The young man started. "But what makes you think that?"

"Falutini told me."