"
"There is always a good deal of chance about you," Rangely said in her
ear, as Mr. Staggchase spoke to Mr. Hubbard and drew his attention
away.
Mr. Staggchase was a thin, wintry man, looking, as Fenton once said,
like the typical Yankee spoiled by civilization. He had always in a
scene of this sort the air of being somewhat out of place, but of
having brought his business with him, so that he was neither idle nor
bored. It was upon business that he now spoke to Hubbard.
"Did you see Lincoln to-day?" he asked. "He has got an ultimatum from
those parties. They will sell all their rights for $70,000."
"For $70,000," repeated Mr. Hubbard, thoughtfully. "We can afford to
give that if we are sure about the road; but I don't know that we are.
If Irons gets hold of any hint of what we are doing he can upset the
whole thing."
"But he won't. There is no fear of that."
A movement in the crowd brought Edith Fenton at this moment to the side
of Mr. Hubbard. She was radiant to-night in her primrose gown, and the
gentleman, with whom she was always a favorite, turned toward her with
evident pleasure.
"Isn't it a jam," she said. "I have ceased to have any control over my
movements."
"That is unkind, when I fancied you allowed yourself to give me the
pleasure of seeing you," returned he with elaborate courtesy. "Let me
take you in to the supper-room.
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