What would
his grandfather say? What would his friends say? His friends should not
know--confound them!--it was none of their business. He would have his
evenings; he would appear at his clubs as usual. If comments were made
upon his absence at other hours he would quietly inform the observing
ones that he had gone to work, but would refuse to say where. It
certainly was a joke, his going to work; not that his grandfather had
not often and strenuously recommended it, saying that the boy would
never know happiness until he shook hands with labour; not that he
himself had not fully intended some day to go into the training
necessary to the assuming of the cares incident to the handling of a
great fortune. But thus far--well, he had never been ready to begin. One
journey more, one more long voyage--
Her eyes--had they been blue or black? Blue, he was quite sure, although
the masses of her hair had been like night for dusky splendour, and her
cheeks of that rich bloom which denotes young vigour and radiant health.
He could hear her voice now, quoting a serious poet to fit a madcap
mood--and quoting him in such a voice! What were the words? He
remembered her mockingly exaggerated inflection:
"'O, it is _excellent_
To have a giant's strength; but it is _tyrannous_
To use it like a giant!'"
Well, from his flash-fire observation of her he should say that a man
might need a giant's strength to overcome her, if she chose to oppose
him, in any situation whatever.
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