Still, I know you wouldn't let me help you,
for men of your stamp cannot borrow from a woman, no matter how
desperate their need. And yet--you only need a paltry fifty thousand
dollars!"
Shirley carried to bed with her that night the woes of the Cardigans,
and in the morning she telephoned Moira McTavish and invited the
latter to lunch with her at home that noon. It was in her mind to
question Moira with a view to acquiring additional information. When
Moira came, Shirley saw that she had been weeping.
"My poor Moira!" she said, putting her arms around her visitor. "What
has happened to distress you? Has your father come back to Sequoia?
Forgive me for asking. You never mentioned him, but I have heard--
There, there, dear! Tell me all about it."
Moira laid her head on Shirley's shoulder and sobbed for several
minutes. Then, "It's Mr. Bryce," she wailed. "He's so unhappy.
Something's happened; they're going to sell Cardigan's Redwoods; and
they--don't want to. Old Mr. Cardigan is home--ill; and just before I
left the office, Mr. Bryce came in--and stood a moment looking--at
me--so tragically I--I asked him what had happened. Then he patted my
cheek--oh, I know I'm just one of his responsibilities--and said
'Poor Moira! Never any luck!' and went into his--private office.
Pages:
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232