“Clio reflected, her eyes narrowed in her thoughtful expression. “He’s as shy as a bird, Van Steed, but he likes to be seen with women who are dramatique—spectacular—is that the word?” “No spika de Angleesh,” retorted Maroon, sulkily. He had not yet quite come round, though three days had elapsed since the race— the Kangaroo race it was called in Saratoga. There had been some ugly talk, but this had quickly died down when it became known beyond a shadow of a doubt that Maroon himself had had a m...ere hundred dollars on his own horse. “Clint, I don’t understand you now. You are so different.” “So are you.” “No. I am exactly what I said I would be when we planned it all in New Orleans. I did not pretend. I did not try to make you believe that I was one of those good women like your dear mama, and that other you so admire. Everything convenable. I am here to make somehow a great deal of money—by marriage, if possible. But safely. You know that.” “You make me sick,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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