"That is so much clear gain to you. Do you suppose that we—my backer and I—shall run the risk for nothing? Good morning! Attend to your own affairs at Danforth's properly. Don't burn your fingers with any new experiments. There's a crash coming and stocks will fall. Good morning!"
The Secretary looked relieved when Fletcher closed the door, and speedily dispatched the necessary letters and orders for the Company. Then leaving the affairs of the Vortex in the hands of his clerk, he strolled out for his usual lunch. Wherever he walked, he was met with smiles and greetings of respect. He turned into an alley, entered an eating-house, and took his place at a table; he ordered and ate his lunch, and then left, with a nod towards the counter. The landlord, who began on credit, expected no pay from the man who procured him money accommodations. No waiter had ever seen a sixpence from his purse. How should a man be expected to pay, who spent his substance and his time so freely in charity?
CHAPTER III.
CONTAINING SOME CONFESSIONS NOT INTENDED FOR THE PUBLIC EAR.
Miss Marcia Sandford, after breakfast, was sitting in her chamber with her widowed sister-in-law, who had come to spend a few months with her late husband's family. The widow no longer wore the roses of youth, but was yet on friendly terms with Time; indeed, so quietly had their annual settlements passed off, that it would have puzzled any one not in their confidence to tell how the account stood. The simplicity of her dress, the chastened look, and the sobriety of phrase, of which her recent affliction was the cause, might have hinted at thirty-five; but when her clear, placid eye was turned upon you, and you saw the delicate flush deepening or vanishing upon a smooth cheek, and noted the changeful expression that hovered like a spiritual presence around her mouth, it would have been treason to think of a day beyond twenty. She had known but little of Marcia, and that little had shown her only as a lover of dress and of admiration, besides being capricious to a degree unusual even in a spoiled favorite.
A musical soirée was under consideration. Marcia was a proficient upon the harp and piano, and, as she had heard that Mr. Greenleaf, the handsome painter, as she called him, was a fine singer, she determined to practise some operatic duets with him, that should move all her musical friends to envy.
"You seem to have taken a strong liking to this Mr. Greenleaf, Marcia."
"Yes, Lydia," replied the beauty, "I do like him, exceedingly,—what I have seen of him. He will do—for a month or so. People are frequently quite charming at first, like fresh bouquets,—but dull and tame enough when the dew is off."
"But you can't have a new admirer, as you have fresh flowers, every day."
"That's true, and pity 'tis, 'tis true."