A Woman Intervenes | Page 7

with lazy
interest the pedestrians who now and then stood still, leaning
apparently far out of the perpendicular, as the deck inclined downward.
Sometimes the pedestrian's feet slipped, and he shot swiftly down the
incline. Such an incident was invariably welcomed by those who sat.
Even the invalids smiled wanly.

Kenyan reclined in his deck-chair with his eyes fixed on the blue sky.
His mind was at rest about the syndicate report now that it had been
mailed to London. His thoughts wandered to his own affairs, and he
wondered whether he would make money out of the option he had
acquired at Ottawa. He was not an optimistic man, and he doubted.
After their work for the London Syndicate was finished, the young men
had done a little business on their own account. They visited together a
mica-mine that was barely paying expenses, and which the proprietors
were anxious to sell. The mine was owned by the Austrian Mining
Company, whose agent, Von Brent, was interviewed by Kenyon in
Ottawa. The young men obtained an option on this mine for three
months from Von Brent. Kenyon's educated eye had told him that the
white mineral they were placing on the dump at the mouth of the mine
was even more valuable than the mica for which they were mining.
Kenyon was scrupulously honest--a quality somewhat at a discount in
the mining business--and it seemed to him hardly the fair thing that he
should take advantage of the ignorance of Von Brent regarding the
mineral on the dump. Wentworth had some trouble in overcoming his
friend's scruples. He claimed that knowledge always had to be paid for,
in law, medicine, or mineralogy, and therefore that they were perfectly
justified in profiting by their superior wisdom. So it came about that the
young men took to England with them a three months' option on the
mine.
Wentworth had been walking about all morning like a lost spirit
apparently seeking what was not. 'It can't be,' he said to himself. No;
the thought was too horrible, and he dismissed it from his mind, merely
conjecturing that perhaps she was not an early riser, which was indeed
the case. No one who works on a morning newspaper ever takes
advantage of the lark's example.
'Well, Kenyon,' said Wentworth 'you look as if you were writing a
poem, or doing something that required deep mental agony.'
'The writing of poems, my dear Wentworth, I leave to you. I am doing
something infinitely more practical--something that you ought to be at.

I am thinking what we are to do with our mica-mine when we get it
over to London.'
'Oh, "sufficient for the day is the evil thereof,"' cried Wentworth
jauntily; 'besides, half an hour's thinking by a solid-brained fellow like
you is worth a whole voyage of my deepest meditation.'
'She hasn't appeared yet?' said Kenyon.
'No, dear boy; no, she has not. You see, I make no pretence with you as
other less ingenuous men might. No, she has not appeared, and she has
not breakfasted.'
'Perhaps--' began Kenyon.
'No, no!' cried Wentworth; 'Til have no "perhaps." I thought of that, but
I instantly dismissed the idea. She's too good a sailor.'
'It requires a very good sailor to stand this sort of thing. It looks so
unnecessary, too. I wonder what the ship is rolling about?'
'I can't tell, but she seems to be rolling about half over. I say, Kenyon,
old fellow, I feel horrible pangs of conscience about deserting you in
this way, and so early in the voyage. I didn't do it last time, did I?'
'You were a model travelling companion on the last voyage,' returned
Kenyon.
'I don't wish to make impertinent suggestions, my boy, but allow me to
tell you that there are some other very nice girls on board.'
'You are not so bad as I feared, then,' replied Kenyon, 'or you wouldn't
admit that. I thought you had eyes for no one but Miss--Miss--I really
didn't catch her name.'
'I don't mind telling you confidentially, Kenyon, that her name is
Jennie.'
'Dear me!' cried Kenyon, 'has it got so far as that? Doesn't it strike you,

Wentworth, that you are somewhat in a hurry? It seems decidedly more
American than English. Englishmen are apt to weigh matters a little
more.'
'There is no necessity for weighing, my boy. I don't see any harm in
making the acquaintance of a pretty girl when you have a long voyage
before you.'
'Well, I wouldn't let it grow too serious, if I were you.'
'There isn't the slightest danger of seriousness about the affair. On shore
the young lady wouldn't cast a second look at me. She is the daughter
of a millionaire. Her father is in Paris, and they