CHAPTER IX
LOVE AND A PRIZE-FIGHT
It is best not to repeat the expressions Brewster used regarding one S.Jones, after reading his telegram. But he felt considerably relievedafter he had uttered them. He fell to reading accounts of the bigprize-fight which was to take place in San Francisco that evening. Herevelled in the descriptions of "upper cuts" and "left hooks," andlearned incidentally that the affair was to be quite one-sided. A localamateur was to box a champion. Quick to see an opportunity, andcajoling himself into the belief that Swearengen Jones could not objectto such a display of sportsmanship, Brewster made Harrison book severalgood wagers on the result. He intimated that he had reason to believethat the favorite would lose. Harrison soon placed three thousanddollars on his man. The young financier felt so sure of the result thathe entered the bets on the profit side of his ledger the moment hereceived Harrison's report.
This done, he telephoned Miss Drew. She was not insensible to thesignificance of his inquiry if she would be in that afternoon. She hadobserved in him of late a condition of uneasiness, supplemented bymoroseness and occasional periods of irascibility. Every girl whoseoccupation in life is the study of men recognizes these symptoms andknows how to treat them. Barbara had dealt with many men afflicted inthis manner, and the flutter of anticipation that came with his urgentplea to see her was tempered by experience. It had something of joy init, for she cared enough for Montgomery Brewster to have made heranxiously uncertain of his state of mind. She cared, indeed, much morethan she intended to confess at the outset.
It was nearly half-past five when he came, and for once thephilosophical Miss Drew felt a little irritation. So certain was she ofhis object in coming that his tardiness was a trifle ruffling. Heapologized for being late, and succeeded in banishing the pique thatpossessed her. It was naturally impossible for him to share all hissecrets with her, that is why he did not tell her that Grant & Ripleyhad called him up to report the receipt of a telegram from SwearengenJones, in which the gentleman laconically said he could feed the wholeState of Montana for less than six thousand dollars. Beyond that therewas no comment. Brewster, in dire trepidation, hastened to the officeof the attorneys. They smiled when he burst in upon them.
"Good heavens!" he exclaimed, "does the miserly old hayseed expect meto spend a million for newspapers, cigarettes and Boston terriers? Ithought he would be reasonable!"
"He evidently has seen the newspaper accounts of your dinner, and thisis merely his comment," said Mr. Ripley.
"It's either a warning, or else he's ambiguous in his compliments,"growled Brewster, disgustedly.
"I don't believe he disapproved, Mr. Brewster. In the west the oldgentleman is widely known as a wit."
"A wit, eh? Then he'll appreciate an answer from me. Have you atelegraph blank, Mr. Grant?"
Two minutes later the following telegram to Swearengen Jones wasawaiting the arrival of a messenger-boy, and Brewster was blandlyassuring Messrs. Grant & Ripley that he did not "care a rap for theconsequences":
NEW YORK, October 23, 1--
SWEARENGEN JONES,
Butte, Mont.
No doubt you could do it for less than six thousand. Montana isregarded as the best grazing country in the world, but we don't eatthat sort of stuff in New York. That's why it costs more to live here.
MONTGOMERY BREWSTER.
Just before leaving his apartments for Miss Drew's home he receivedthis response from faraway Montana:
BUTTE, MONTANA, Oct. 23, 1--
MONTGOMERY BREWSTER, New York.
We are eight thousand feet above the level of the sea. I suppose that'swhy it costs us less to live high.
S. JONES.
"I was beginning to despair, Monty," said Miss Drew, reproachfully,when he had come down from the height of his exasperation andremembered that there were things of more importance.
The light in his eyes brought the faintest tinge of red to her cheeks,and where a moment before there had been annoyance there was now afeeling of serenity. For a moment the silence was fraught with purpose.Monty glanced around the room, uncertain how to begin. It was not soeasy as he had imagined.
"You are very good to see me," he said at last. "It was absolutelynecessary for me to talk to you this evening; I could not have enduredthe suspense any longer. Barbara, I've spent three or four sleeplessnights on your account. Will it spoil your evening if I tell you inplain words what you already know? It won't bother you, will it?" hefloundered.
"What do you mean, Monty?" she begged, purposely dense, and withwonderful control of her eyes.
"I love you, Babs," he cried. "I thought you knew about it all along orI should have told you before. That's why I haven't slept. The fearthat you may not care for me has driven me nearly to distraction. Itcouldn't go on any longer. I must know to-day."
There was a gleam in his eyes that made her pose of indifferencedifficult; the fervor of his half-whispered words took possession ofher. She had expected sentiment of such a different character that hisfrank confession disarmed her completely. Beneath his ardent, abruptplea there was assurance, the confidence of one who is not to bedenied. It was not what he said, but the way he said it. A wave ofexultation swept over her, tingling through every nerve. Under thespell her resolution to dally lightly with his emotion suffered a checkthat almost brought ignominious surrender. Both of her hands wereclasped in his when he exultingly resumed the charge against her heart,but she was rapidly regaining control of her emotions and he did notknow that he was losing ground with each step he took forward. BarbaraDrew loved Brewster, but she was going to make him pay dearly for thebrief lapse her composure had experienced. When next she spoke she wasagain the Miss Drew who had been trained in the ways of the world, andnot the young girl in love.
"I care for you a great deal, Monty," she said, "but I'm wonderingwhether I care enough to--to marry you."
"We haven't known each other very long, Babs," he said, tenderly, "butI think we know each other well enough to be beyond wondering."
"It is like you to manage the whole thing," she said, chidingly. "Can'tyou give me time to convince myself that I love you as you would like,and as I must love if I expect to be happy with the man I marry?"
"I forgot myself," he said, humbly.
"You forgot me," she protested, gently, touched by this sign ofcontrition. "I do care for you, Monty, but don't you see it's no littlething you ask of me? I must be sure--very sure--before I--before--"
"Don't be so distressed," he pleaded. "You will love me, I know,because you love me now. This means much to me, but it means more toyou. You are the woman and you are the one whose happiness should beconsidered. I can live only in the hope that when I come to you againwith this same story and this same question you'll not be afraid totrust yourself to me."
"You deserve to be happy for that, Monty," she said, earnestly, and itwas with difficulty that she kept her eyes from wavering as they lookedinto his.
"You will let me try to make you love me?" he asked, eagerly.
"I may not be worth the struggle."
"I'll take that chance," he replied.
She was conscious of disappointment after he was gone. He had notpleaded as ardently as she had expected and desired, and, try as shewould, she could not banish the touch of irritation that had come tohaunt her for the night.
Brewster walked to the club, elated that he had at least made abeginning. His position was now clear. Besides losing a fortune he mustwin Barbara in open competition.
At the theater that evening he met Harrison, who was in a state ofjubilation.
"Where did you get that tip?" asked he.
"Tip? What tip?" from Brewster.
"On the prize-fight?"
Brewster's face fell and something cold crept over him.
"How did--what was the result?" he asked, sure of the answer.
"Haven't you heard? Your man knocked him out in the fifthround--surprised everybody."