It
tied him fast. He was tied by it right now. Even if he so
desired, he could not lie abed this very day. His money called
him. The office whistle would soon blow, and he must answer it.
The early sunshine was streaming through his window--a fine day
for a ride in the hills on Bob, with Dede beside him on her Mab.
Yet all his millions could not buy him this one day. One of
those flurries might come along, and he had to be on the spot to
meet it. Thirty millions! And they were powerless to persuade
Dede to ride on Mab--Mab, whom he had bought, and who was unused
and growing fat on pasture. What were thirty millions when they
could not buy a man a ride with the girl he loved? Thirty
millions!--that made him come here and go there, that rode upon
him like so many millstones, that destroyed him while they grew,
that put their foot down and prevented him from winning this girl
who worked for ninety dollars a month.
Which was better? he asked himself. All this was Dede's own
thought. It was what she had meant when she prayed he would go
broke. He held up his offending right arm. It wasn't the same
old arm. Of course she could not love that arm and that body as
she had loved the strong, clean arm and body of years before.
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