Marguerite studied the portrait, for it interested her: after
that she turned and looked again at the ponderous desk. It was
covered with a mass of papers, all neatly tied and docketed, which
looked like accounts and receipts arrayed with perfect method. It had
never before struck Marguerite--nor had she, alas! found it worth
while to inquire--as to how Sir Percy, whom all the world had credited
with a total lack of brains, administered the vast fortune which his
father had left him.
Since she had entered this neat, orderly room, she had been
taken so much by surprise, that this obvious proof of her husband's
strong business capacities did not cause her more than a passing
thought of wonder. But it also strengthened her in the now certain
knowledge that, with his worldly inanities, his foppish ways, and
foolish talk, he was not only wearing a mask, but was playing a
deliberate and studied part.
Marguerite wondered again. Why should he take all this trouble?
Why should he--who was obviously a serious, earnest man--wish to appear
before his fellow-men as an empty-headed nincompoop?
He may have wished to hide his love for a wife who held him in
contempt.
Pages:
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238