His voice had even in his merriment a
little imperious ring, his face was refined as well as sensual, and
there was a languid gracefulness in his movements and a hint of pride
in his eyes. They, however, lacked the steadiness of Winston's, and
there were men who had seen the wild devil that was born in Courthorne
look out of them. Winston knew him as a pleasant companion, but
surmised from stories he had heard that there were men, and more women,
who bitterly rued the trust they had placed in him.
"No," he said dryly. "I scarcely think I am like you, although only
last night Nettie at the settlement took me for you. You see, the kind
of life I've led out here has set its mark on me, and my folks in the
old country were distinctly middle-class people. There is something in
heredity."
Courthorne did not parry the unexpressed question. "Oh yes," he said,
with a little sardonic smile. "I know. The backbone of the
nation--solemn, virtuous and slow. You're like them, but my folks were
different, as you surmise. I don't think they had many estimable
qualities from your point of view, but if they all didn't go quite
straight they never went slow, and they had a few prejudices, which is
why I found it advisable to leave the old country. Still, I've had my
fill of all that life can offer most folks out here, while you scarcely
seem to have found virtue pay you. They told me at the settlement
things were bad with you."
Winston, who was usually correct in his deductions, surmised that his
companion had an object, and expected something in return for this
confidence.
Pages:
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30