THE TOUCHSTONE
glanced with a kind of repugnance at the interleaving of yellow crisscrossed sheets. "She was the one who drowned herself, wasn't she?"
Flamel nodded. "I suppose that little episode adds about fifty per cent. to their value," he said meditatively.
Glennard laid the book down. He wondered why he had joined Flamel. He was in no humor to be amused by the older man's talk, and a recrudescence of personal misery rose about him like an icy tide.
"I believe I must take myself off," he said. "I'd forgotten an engagement."
He turned to go; but almost at the same moment he was conscious of a duality of intention wherein his apparent wish to leave revealed itself as a last effort of the will against the overmastering desire to stay and unbosom himself to Flamel.
The older man, as though divining the conflict, laid a detaining pressure on his arm.
"Won't the engagement keep? Sit down and try one of these cigars. I don't often have the luck of seeing you here."
[ 42 ]
