Floyd went home and tossed about all night.His life was breaking up, he was all at sea.Why had he met her? He was losing the anchor that had held him."They call her the queen," the little girl had said.
She must be.He had seen her soul through her eyes.
Floyd sent her the poem which contained the line which she had quoted;and she wrote him a note thanking him.It pleased him.It was sympathetic.
She invited him to call.He went to see her.She was fine in grain and in look.A closely fitting dark gown ornamented by a single glorious red rose which might have grown where it lay, and her soft hair coiled on her small head, as she entered tall and straight and calm, made Floyd involuntarily say to himself, "Yes" --"She was right," he said, half to himself, half aloud, as he stood gazing at her with inquiring eyes after she had greeted him cordially.
"What was right?" she asked.
"Something a little girl said about you.""What was it?"
"I will tell you some day, when I know you better.""Was it a compliment?"
"Yes."
"Tell me now."
"No, wait."
He came to know her better; to know her very well.He did not see her very often, but he thought of her a great deal.He seemed to find in her a sympathy which he needed.It reminded him of the past.
He awoke from his lethargy; began to work once more in the old way;mixed among men again; grew brighter."Henry Floyd is growing younger, instead of older," someone said of him."His health has been bad,"said a doctor."He is improving.I thought at one time he was going to die.""He is getting rich," said a broker, who had been a schoolmate of his.
"I see he has just invented a new something or other to relieve children with hip or ankle-joint disease.""Yes, and it is a capital thing, too; it is being taken up by the profession.
I use it.It is a curious thing that he should have hit on that when he is not a surgeon.He had studied anatomy as a sort of fad, as he does everything.One of Haile Tabb's boys was bedridden, and he was a great friend of his, and that set him at it.""I don't think he's so much of a crank as he used to be," said someone.
The broker who had been his schoolmate met Floyd next day.
"I see you have been having a great stroke of luck," he said.
"Have I?"
"Yes.I see in the papers, that your discovery, or invention, or whatever it was, has been taken up.""Oh! yes -- that? It has."
"I congratulate you."
"Thank you."
"I would not mind looking into that."
"Yes, it is interesting."
"I might take an interest in it."
"Yes, I should think so."
"How much do you ask for it?"
"`Ask for it?' Ask for what?"
"For an interest in it, either a part or the whole?""What?"
"You ought to make a good thing out of it -- out of your patent.""My patent! I haven't any patent."
"What! No patent?"
"No.It's for the good of people generally.""But you got a patent?"
"No."
"Couldn't you get a patent?"
"I don't know."
"Well, I'll be bound I'd have got a patent.""Oh! no, I don't think so."
"I tell you what, you ought to turn your talents to account," said his friend.
"Yes, I know I ought."
"You could be a rich man."
"But I don't care to be rich."
"What! Oh! nonsense.Everyone does."
"I do not.I want to live."
"But you don't live."
"Well, maybe I shall some day."
"You merely exist."
"Why should I want to be rich?"
"To live -- to buy what you want."
"I want sympathy, love; can one buy that?""Yes -- even that."
"No, you cannot.There is only one sort of woman to be bought.""Well, come and see me sometimes, won't you?""Well, no, I'm very much obliged to you; but I don't think I can.""Why? I have lots of rich men come to my house.You'd find it to your advantage if you'd come.""Thank you."
"We could make big money together if ----"He paused.Floyd was looking at him.
"Could we? If -- what?"
"If you would let me use you."
"Thank you," said Floyd."Perhaps we could.""Why won't you come?"
"Well, the fact is, I haven't time.I shall have to wait to get a little richer before I can afford it.Besides I have a standing engagement.""Oh! no, we won't squeeze you.I tell you what, come up to dinner to-morrow.
I'm going to have a fellow there, an awfully rich fellow --want to interest him in some things, and I've invited him down.
He is young Router, the son of the great Router, you know who he is?""Well, no, I don't believe I do.Good-by.Sorry I can't come;but I have an engagement."
"What is it?"
"To play mumble-the-peg with some boys: Haile Tabb's boys.""Oh! hang the boys! Come up to dinner.It is an opportunity you may not have again shortly.Router's awfully successful, and you can interest him.I tell you what I'll do ----""No, thank you, I'll keep my engagement.Good-by.""That fellow's either a fool or he is crazy," said his friend, gazing after him as he walked away."And he's got some sense too.
If he'd let me use him I could make money out of him for both of us."It was not long before Floyd began to be known more widely.
He had schemes for the amelioration of the condition of the poor.
They were pronounced quixotic; but he kept on.He said he got good out of them if no one else did.
He began to go oftener and oftener down to the City, where Miss Dangerlie lived.He did not see a great deal of her;but he wrote to her.He found in her a ready sympathy with his plans.
It was not just as it used to be in his earlier love affair, where he used to find himself uplifted and borne along by the strong spirit which had called him from the dead; but if it was not this that he got, it was what contented him.Whatever he suggested, she accepted.
He found in her tastes a wonderful similarity with his, and from that he drew strength.
Women in talking of him in connection with her said it was a pity;men said he was lucky.
One evening, at a reception at her house, he was in the gentlemen's dressing-room.It was evidently a lady's apartment which had been devoted for the occasion as a dressing-room.
It was quite full at the time.A man, a large fellow with sleek, short hair, a fat chin, and a dazzling waistcoat, pulled open a lower drawer in a bureau.
Articles of a lady's apparel were discovered, spotless and neatly arranged.
