“I have at least the good manners to be ashamed of it,” Tom laughed. “To hide it and even lie about it. I am gaining strength.”
He looked admiringly at Korn. “Here, old man, I drink to the logic—to the beauty of your life!” He held forth his wine glass.
Korn raised his to his eyes, nodded and sipped. Tom drained.
“Did you get that, Davie?” he said. “The contempt Korn showed in answering my toast? I do not blame him. I’ve never earned his respect. Think how he must despise you!”
Korn did not turn his head. Lunn grunted and smirked—in his plate. Dounia and Phoebe came to David’s rescue.
From Dounia: “I am sure Mr. Markand is br-raver, much b-raver than you!”
From Phoebe: “Jack, deny that you despise Mr. Markand.”
Tom drove ahead. “But I’ll earn your respect yet, Jack Korn. I may be earning it now....”
Christian Hill was nudging Miss Gross.
“He’s a wonder, is Rennard. You must get him. The other man, the one in the black suit, Madeline, he—he is——” Hill whispered in the young girl’s ear. Her fork clattered: her little eyes lost their dim cunning: became bright and large.