The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 158: what you’re looking at

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

148 ‘“Modesty is an outworn fallacy,” re- turned the younger man. “ You know yourself that modesty is rarer than virtue. The average man is a monster of conceit, but he goes mincing about, inviting flat- tery, and deprecating it, and people say that he is modest and unassuming. Offer your most modest and simpering ribbon- counter clerk the Presidency of the United States, and he will admit, after a proper paroxysm of confusion, that he is eminently qualified for the position.” “You are amusing, in a way, Spencer,’ Colonel Crofton said quietly, “ but you do not inspire confidence.” “Of course I don’t,” the other fired back; “nothing unconventional can in- spire confidence, so long as you base confidence on kiln-dried traditions and conventions. Now, we both know well _ enough that you secretly favor Howard Olmstead’s suit for Flora’s hand. Howard has never done a day’s work, never will, and couldn’t if he would; yet he inspires confidence. He has conventional man- ners, lounges around the best clubs, and hasn’t energy enough to spend the whole of his annuity. Therefore, he is a safe proposition.” “T know that my attitude is hardly up-to-date,” said Colonel Crofton, with a vague twinkle in his eye, “ but while Howard Olmstead is an idler, and may never be anything else, he has a certain stock in trade that interests a careful parent; he offers a wife an unblemished _ family name and a social position estab- lished for four generations. You, with your violent logic and cold facts, cannot deny that the average woman needs little more than that for comparative hap- pifess. If her husband is an idler, with a passive personality, she may be com- fortably sure that he will give her little or no trouble.” “Tf one is to take a cynical view of everything, that is all very well,” replied Spencer, “ but Flora is not a mere po- tential society woman; she has imagina- tion, and she will not be content with position and family name. Flora wants THE ARGOSY. me—she has done me the honor to say so—and I want her. That is the situa- tion as it stands.” “Well, you can’t have her—with my consent,” answered the colonel, without undue emotion. “I don’t expect to play the stern parent of melodrama, chasing you and Flora in a_ post-chaise or limousine, but if she wants you she will have to take you as you are, and you will have to take her without the sug- gested dowry. I really don’t intend to give myself any particular trouble, one way or the other.” He tilted back in his office chair and gazed serenely out of the twentieth-story window at the tree-tops of Madison Square, and John Spencer smiled slightly as he contrasted him with the traditional, merciless parent. Colonel Crofton was a man in the late fifties or early sixties, lithe and athletic, as smartly dressed as a college junior, and with little left for the world to teach him, save that which he had no wish to know. The two men differed radically in nature and attitude, but Spencer did not fail to understand the other. Crofton had led the sort of life which is quietly disillusioning, which makes one a cheer- ful, but no less unrelenting, cynic. “T am glad that you are not agitated about the situation,” Spencer said coolly. ‘Of course, you may readily understand that I am not the sort to give up, merely for a matter of money. It simply makes everything more difficult for Flora and me, but I am accustomed to difficulties. My brother and I will eventually get the money we need to develop our business; we’re bound to get it somewhere. Our plans for manufacturing a cheaper and better golf ball are reasonable and prac- tical, so it is naturally hard to interest capital, even in so small a way. If we had a wildcat mining project, or an in- sane scheme to make truffles out of turnips, we could raise a million in a week, but we are too conservative to offer more than a profit of forty per cent.” (C@ =) a VNOOKS (C@)