In Fenton's creed, self-deception was put
down as the greatest of crimes, and he had fallen into the way of half
unconsciously regarding his inner frankness as a sort of expiation for
whatever faults he might commit.
He chuckled inwardly at the discomfort which he knew his remark brought
to Fred, humorously acknowledging himself to be a brute for thus taking
advantage of circumstances with a man who had just eaten his salt. The
excitement of the thing he was about to do had mounted into his head
like wine, and he hastened toward the club with a feeling of buoyancy
and exhilaration such as he had not known for months. He laughed and
joked, ignoring Rangely's unresponsiveness; and when he entered the
club parlors his cheeks were flushed and his eyes shone as in the old
Pagan days.
He was just in season. The monthly business meeting was about being
completed, and Fenton had scarcely time to recover his breath before
the President said,--
"If there is no other business to come before this meeting we will now
adjourn."
Then Fenton stepped forward.
"Mr. President," he said, in his smooth, clear voice, only a trifle
heightened in pitch by excitement.
The President put up his eyeglasses and recognized him.
"Mr. Fenton."
There was an instant hush in the room. Every member of the club knew of
the vote of censure, which had excited much talk, and of which the
propriety had been violently discussed.
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