operate the affairs that were surging into his alone. The mere fact that the end of his year was less than two months off, and that there was more or less uncertainty as to the character of the end, was sufficient cause for worry, but the new trouble was infinitely harder to endure. When he sat down to think over his financial enterprises his mind treacherously wandered off to Peggy Gray, and then everything was hopeless. He recalled the courage and confidence that had carried him to Barbara Drew with a declaration of love—to the stunning, worldly Barbara—and smiled bitterly when he saw how basely the two allies were deserting him in this hour of love for Peggy Gray. For some reason he had felt sure of Barbara; for another reason he saw no chance with Peggy. She was not the same sort—she was different. She was—well, she was Peggy.
Occasionally his reflections assumed the importance of calculations. His cruise was sure to cost $200,000, a princely sum, but not enough. Swearengen Jones and his cablegram did not awe him to a great extent. The spending of the million had become a mania with him now and he had no regard for consequences. His one desire, aside from Peggy, was to increase the cost of the cruise.
