The girl was too unsophisticated to have meant
it. Somehow that made it worse. Though she did not know it, he did.
Unknown to herself, there was a response in the presence of Locke which
was not inspired in his own society. He hurried her into the library.
It was as though the entrance of Paul and Eva had been preconcerted. The
partners, in their dispute, stopped and turned as the young people
entered and moved over to a divan. Balcom lowered his voice and plucked
at Brent's sleeve as he nodded toward the couple.
"I could trust you better if they were married within a week," suggested
Balcom.
Brent recoiled, but Balcom affected not to notice.
"Then I will believe that you are dealing fairly with me," he
emphasized.
Brent studied a moment, then nodded assent. Balcom extended a cold,
commanding hand and the partners shook hands.
Outside, Locke had paused, about to enter the library. The pause had
been just long enough for him to hear--and it was a blow to him. He
watched, dazed, as the two older men walked over to the younger couple;
then he turned away, heart sick.
"My dear," began Brent, as he patted the shoulder of the girl, the one
spot of goodness that had shone in the otherwise blackness of his life,
making him at last realize the depth to which lust of money had made him
sink, "we were just saying that perhaps it would be advisable
to--er--hasten your marriage to Paul--say--perhaps next week.
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