Spencer. "I've
never seen her."
"A Mrs. Clephane," Madeline Spencer replied. "She's very good-looking,
isn't she?"
"I'm perfectly satisfied with the lady immediately in my fore," he
smiled. "I don't run to blondes--"
"When you're with a brunette!" she smiled back.
"I don't run to anyone when I'm with you," he replied with quiet
earnestness, leaning toward her across the table.
She shot him a knowing glance. Last night she had held him to strict
propriety. Today in the taxi she had deliberately set herself to
fascinate him, and had succeeded well. She had been demurely
tantalizing--holding him at a distance, letting him come a little
nearer, bringing him up sharply; all the tricks of the trade executed
with a perfection of technic and a mastery of effect. Snodgrass, with
all his experience, was but a novice in her hands; she always struck
directly at the affections--got them: and then the rest was easy. She
never lost her head, nor allowed her own affections to become involved;
save only twice--and both those times she had failed. Snodgrass, she had
learned through inquiries, had quite sufficient money to make him worth
her while; moreover, he was such a big, good-natured, dependable
chap--and a gentleman.
Pages:
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264