Richard Forrest, Bachelor — page 159: what you’re looking at

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

150 A GOLDEN FUTURE PREDICTED. She quickened her gait. ‘‘T’m thoroughly chilled,’? she announced. ‘‘Hurry.”’ Her words fell upon deaf ears; he was wondering what to say. She addressed him once more, this time very sweetly. ‘‘Ts it a bargain, then, my good friend?”’ ‘‘What shall Ido? Mon Dieu! I suppose I must say yes. You will ruin me. I shall be killed.’’ “Oh, no, au contraire, I shall make your fortune,’’ she said, all amiability. ‘‘Then I can depend upon you to bring the contract around? Remember, four hundred. Nota sou less.’ | He went his way with a slow step, the picture of dejec- tion, as she sprang lightly into the victoria beside Madame Philippe and drove off. ‘‘You heard the row, I suppose?’’ she said, as they rolled swiftly on. ‘‘That little jumping-jack must take me for a fool, but I flatter myself, I got the best of him. He thinks because he brought me over here and ‘launched’ me, as he calls it, that I must take whatever he dictates and be thankful. But I know a trick worth half a dozen of that, and he had to come to my terms.’’ And she repeated the result of their conversation. ‘Quite right,’’ said Madame Philippe, nodding approval, ‘“‘and as for Bartonni, they hate him so, I presume you | played Bouchon against him, as you did him against Bou- chon.’’ | ‘‘No,’’ responded the girl, ‘‘to be frank with you, I have never laid eyes upon Bartonni.’’ ‘‘What? Then it was his agent who called?’’ “Wrong again. My conversation with Bartonni was pure fabrication. ”’ Gomichbooks: com