THE GIRL IN HIS HOUSE
inconsequent grasshopper's life! And here was the first shrewd blast of winter tingling his isinglass wings!
Excuses—one after another he cast them aside. What he had done, to avoid the simple business cares of his estate, was inexcusable. Once upon a time he would have felt only bitterly wronged and abused by fate; but for six years he had been living very close to natural things, and—with the exception of what he had honestly believed to be love—he had learned that it was folly to lie to oneself. He laughed aloud. If his life that day had depended upon earning a dollar, he would have gone to his death at sundown. James Armitage, aged thirty-four; occupation, grasshopper.
A cynical, insidious idea crept into his head and tried to find lodgment there. Clare Wendell, rich and free. . . .
"No! By the Lord Harry! I'll never stoop that low. I'll work. I wouldn't make a bad riding-master." He laughed again. "I suppose this is the kind of situation that offers a normally good man a fine chance to become a rogue. No, thanks!"
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