"
Virginia pressed the little bell and the lift began to ascend.
"I am glad to know, Mr. Vine," she said, "what sort of a man you are."
He bowed, and she stepped into the lift without any further form of
farewell. Vine walked thoughtfully back to his rooms. He was a man who
had grown hard and callous in the stress of life, but somehow the memory
of Virginia's pale face and dark reproachful eyes remained with him.
CHAPTER X
A NEW VENTURE
Phineas Duge, notwithstanding an absence of anything approaching
vulgarity in his somewhat complex disposition, was, for a man of affairs
and an American, singularly fond of the small elegances of life.
Although he sat alone at dinner, the table was heaped with choice
flowers and carefully selected hothouse fruit. His one glass of wine,
the best of its sort, he sipped meditatively, and with the air of a
connoisseur. The soft lights upon the table were such as a woman,
mindful of her complexion, might have chosen. Behind his chair stood
his English butler, grave, solemn-faced, attentive. The cigars and
matches were already on his left-hand side, ready for the moment when he
should have finished his wine.
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