Richard Forrest, Bachelor — page 155: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

146 A GOLDEN FUTURE PREDICTED. sat a womanin gray, who studied the menv and paid no attention, whatever, to either her surroundings or her com- panion, a little old man, with a pointed white beard which he constantly stroked in a pensive manner. With a scowl, Fabbricotti ordered what she wished and then thoughtfully lit a cigarette. ‘‘Such a day as it is,’’ she observed, presently. ‘‘Itmakes . one feel at peace with all the world.”’ Her companion vouchsafed no response. ‘“‘Ah! here is my creme-de-menthe,’’ she said, again. ‘*Fabbricotti, good luck to you.”’ Fabbricofti acknowledged the toast with a sullen grunt and emptied his glass at a gulp. Miss Delmar wiped her lips daintily with her handker- chief and then arose. He followed her example, and as he took up his stick, said, roughly: ‘You refuse, then, to sign for two hundred?”’ ‘‘Most assuredly. I should be quite out of my mind to do so.” The Italian shrugged his shoulders. ‘Then I suppose Monsieur Bouchon must get some one else. Itis a pity, too, for mademoiselle is so chic.”’ Miss Delmar reopened her parasol with a snap, yvouchsaf- ing no reply to this compliment. Not far behind followed Madame Philippe, apparently absorbed in her own thoughts. There were a few minutes’ silence, and then Miss Del- mar said, abruptly: ‘See here, signor, how much do you make out of this business, anyway??’’ Fabbricotti looked grieved; his thin lips tightened. ‘‘Mademoiselle could not think I would lower myself——”’ COMMICIOOMKS. CORN