"IT OWNS ME!"
And with that she went indoors and cried part of the forenoon and
spent the rest of it in trying on her new clothes.
Wealth, if it did not bring happiness, at least brought some
pleasant distractions.
II
It was fully a year before Frank saw her again; a long year to
him, soberly passed in his shipboard duties, with recurring weeks
ashore at New York and Buenos Ayres. He had grown more reserved
and silent than before; fonder of his books; keener in his taste
for abstract science. He avoided his old friends and made no new
ones. The world seemed to be passing him while he stood still. He
wondered how others could laugh when his own heart was so heavy,
and he preferred to go his own way, solitary and unnoticed, taking
an increasing pleasure in his isolation. He continued to write to
Bridgeport, for there were a few old friends whom he could not
disregard altogether, though he made his letters as infrequent as
he could and as short. In return he was kept informed of
Florence's movements; of the sensation she made everywhere; of the
great people who had taken her under their wing; of her rumoured
engagements; of her triumphs in Paris and London; of her yachts
and horses and splendour and beauty. His correspondents showed an
artless pride in the recital. It was becoming their only claim to
consideration that they knew Florence Fenacre. Her dazzling life
reflected a sort of glory upon themselves, and their letters ran
endlessly on the same theme.
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