There
won't be any divorce proceedings or any scandal. I'm free personally to
work out my own economic destiny. That, right now, is engrossing enough
for me."
Linda sat a minute, thoughtful.
"So you think my word for Walter Monohan's deviltry isn't worth much,"
she said. "Well, I could furnish plenty of details. But I don't think I
shall. Not because you'd be angry, but because I don't think you're
quite as blind as I believed. And I'm not a natural gossip. Aside from
that, he's quite too busy on Roaring Lake for it to mean any good. He
never gets active like that unless he has some personal axe to grind. In
this case, I can grasp his motive easily enough. Jack Fyfe may not have
said a word to you, but he certainly knows Monohan. They've clashed
before, so I've been told. Jack probably saw what was growing on you,
and I don't think he'd hesitate to tell Monohan to walk away around. If
he did,--or if you definitely turned Monohan down; you see I'm rather in
the dark,--he'd go to any length to play even with. Fyfe. When Monohan
wants anything, he looks upon it as his own; and when you wound his
vanity, you've stabbed him in his most vital part. He never rests then
until he's paid the score. Father was always a little afraid of him. I
think that's the chief reason for selling out his Roaring Lake interests
to Monohan. He didn't want to be involved in whatever Monohan
contemplated doing. He has a wholesome respect for your husband's rather
volcanic ability.
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