She had taken Morris's measure
and had already begun to like him as much as Jack did.
"Yes--Miss Ruth--Now, please, my dear girl, keep on being young
and very beautiful and very wholesome, for you are every one of
these things, and I know you'll forgive me for saying so when I
tell you that I have two strapping young fellows for sons who are
almost old enough to make love to you. Come, Peter, show me that
copy of Tacitus you wrote me about. Is it in good condition?" They
were out of Jack's hearing now, Morris adding, "Fine type of
Southern beauty, Peter. Big design, with broad lines everywhere.
Good, too--good as gold. Something about her forehead that reminds
me of the Italian school. Looks as if Bellini might have loved
her. Hello, Major! What are you doing here all by yourself?"
Jack stood transfixed!
Horror, anger, humiliation over the exposure (it was unheard, if
he had but known it, by anyone in the room except Peter and
himself) rushed over him in hot concurrent waves. It was his
uncle, then, who had robbed young Gilbert! The Mukton Lode! He had
handled dozens of the certificates, just as he had handled dozens
of others, hardly glancing at the names.
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