the conflict-第3部分

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‘‘Oh；　nono；　indeed。　　He's　worked　his　way　through　collegeand　law　school　afterward。　　Supported　the　family　all　the　time。''

‘‘He　must　be　tremendously　clever。''

‘‘I've　given　you　an　exaggerated　idea　of　him；''　Davy　hastened　to　say。　　‘‘He's　really　an　ordinary　sort　of　chap。''

‘‘I　should　think　he'd　get　rich；''　said　Miss　Hastings。　　‘‘Most　of　the　men　that　doso　far　as　I've　met　them　seem　ordinary　enough。''

‘‘He　says　he　could　get　rich；　but　that　he　wouldn't　waste　time　that　way。　　But　he's　fond　of　boasting。''

‘‘You　don't　think　he　could　make　moneyafter　all　he　didgoing　to　college　and　everything？''

‘‘YesI　guess　he　could；''　reluctantly　admitted　Davy。　　Then　in　a　burst　of　candor：　　‘‘Perhaps　I'm　a　little　jealous　of　him。　　If　_I_　were　thrown　on　my　own　resources；　I'm　afraid　I'd　make　a　pretty　wretched　showing。　　Butdon't　get　an　exaggerated　idea　of　him。　　The　things　I've　told　you　sound　romantic　and　unusual。　　If　you　met　himsaw　him　every　dayyou'd　realize　he's　not　at　allat　least；　not　muchout　of　the　ordinary。''

‘‘Perhaps；''　said　Miss　Hastings　shrewdly；　‘‘perhaps　I'm　getting　a　better　idea　of　him　than　you　who　see　him　so　often。''

‘‘Oh；　you'll　run　across　him　sometime；''　said　Davy；　who　was　bearing　up　no　better　than　would　the　next　man　under　the　strain　of　a　woman's　interest　in　and　excitement　about　another　man。　　‘‘When　you　do；　you'll　get　enough　in　about　five　minutes。　　You　see；　he's　not　a　gentleman　。''

‘‘I'm　not　sure　that　I'm　wildly　crazy　about　gentlemen　AS　gentlemen；''　replied　the　girl。　　‘‘Very　few　of　the　interesting　people　I've　read　about　in　history　and　biography　have　been　gentlemen。''

‘‘And　very　few　of　them　would　have　been　pleasant　to　associate　with；''　rejoined　Hull。　　‘‘You'll　admire　Victor　as　I　do。　　But　you'll　feelas　I　dothat　there's　small　excuse　for　a　man　who　has　been　educated；　who　has　associated　with　upper　class　people；　turning　round　and　inciting　the　lower　classes　against　everything　that's　fine　and　improving。''

It　was　now　apparent　to　the　girl　that　David　Hull　was　irritatedly　jealous　of　this　queer　Victor　Dorn　was　jealous　of　her　interest　in　him。　　Her　obvious　cue　was　to　fan　this　flame。　　In　no　other　way　could　she　get　any　amusement　out　of　Davy's　society；　for　his　tendency　was　to　be　heavily　seriousand　she　wanted　no　more　of　the　too　strenuous　love　making；　yet　wanted　to　keep　him　‘‘on　the　string。''　　This　jealousy　was　just　the　means　for　her　end。　　Said　she　innocently：　　‘‘If　it　irritates　you；　Davy；　we　won't　talk　about　him。''

‘‘Not　at　allnot　at　all；''　cried　Hull。　　‘‘I　simply　thought　you'd　be　getting　tired　of　hearing　so　much　about　a　man　you'd　never　known。''

‘‘But　I　feel　as　if　I　did　know　him；''　replied　she。　　‘‘Your　account　of　him　was　so　vivid。　　I　thought　of　asking　you　to　bring　him　to　call。''

Hull　laughed　heartily。　　‘‘Victor　Dorncalling！''

‘‘Why　not？''

‘‘He　doesn't　do　that　sort　of　thing。　　And　if　he　did；　how　could　I　bring　him　here？''

‘‘Why　not？''

‘‘Wellin　the　first　place；　you　are　a　ladyand　he　is　not　in　your　class。　　Of　course；　men　can　associate　with　each　other　in　politics　and　business。　　But　the　social　side　of　lifethat's　different。''

‘‘But　a　while　ago　you　were　talking　about　my　going　in　for　politics；''　said　Miss　Hastings　demurely。

‘‘Still；　you'd　not　have　to　meet　SOCIALLY　queer　and　rough　characters''

‘‘Is　Victor　Dorn　very　rough？''

The　interrupting　question　was　like　the　bite　of　a　big　fly　to　a　sweating　horse。　　‘‘I'm　getting　sick　of　hearing　about　him　from　you；''　cried　Hull　with　the　pettishness　of　the　spoiled　children　of　the　upper　class。

‘‘In　what　way　is　he　rough？''　persisted　Miss　Hastings。　　‘‘If　you　didn't　wish　to　talk　about　Victor　Dorn；　why　did　you　bring　the　subject　up？''

‘‘Ohall　right；''　cried　Hull；　restraining　himself。　　‘‘Victor　isn't　exactly　rough。　　He　can　act　like　a　gentleman　when　he　happens　to　want　to。　　But　you　never　can　tell　what　he'll　do　next。''

‘‘You　MUST　bring　him　to　call！''　exclaimed　Miss　Hastings。

‘‘Impossible；''　said　Hull　angrily。

‘‘But　he's　the　only　man　I've　heard　about　since　I've　been　home　that　I've　taken　the　least　interest　in。''

‘‘If　he　did　come；　your　father　would　have　the　servants　throw　him　off　the　place。''

‘‘Oh；　no；''　said　Hiss　Hastings　haughtily。　　‘‘My　father　wouldn't　insult　a　guest　of　mine。''

‘‘But　you　don't　know；　Jen；''　cried　David。　　‘‘Why；　Victor　Dorn　attacks　your　father　in　the　most　outrageous　way　in　his　miserable　little　anarchist　papercalls　him　a　thief；　a　briber；　a　blood…suckeraI'd　not　venture　to　repeat　to　you　the　things　he　says。''

‘‘No　doubt　he　got　a　false　impression　of　father　because　of　that　damage　suit；''　said　Miss　Hastings　mildly。　　‘‘That　was　a　frightful　thing。　　I　can't　be　so　unjust　as　to　blame　him；　Davycan　you？''

Hull　was　silent。

‘‘And　I　guess　father　does　have　to　do　a　lot　of　things　in　the　course　of　business　　Don't　all　the　big　men　the　leaders？''

‘‘Yesunfortunately　they　do；''　said　Hull。　　‘‘That's　what　gives　plausibility　to　the　shrieks　of　demagogues　like　Victor　Dornthough　Victor　is　too　well　educated　not　to　know　better　than　to　stir　up　the　ignorant　classes。''

‘‘I　wonder　why　he　does　it；''　said　Miss　Hastings；　reflectively。　　‘‘I　must　ask　him。　　I　want　to　hear　what　he　says　to　excuse　himself。''　　In　fact；　she　had　not　the　faintest　interest　in　the　views　of　this　queer　unknown；　her　chief　reason　for　saying　she　had　was　to　enjoy　David　Hull's　jealousy。

‘‘Before　you　try　to　meet　Victor；''　said　Hull；　in　a　constrained；　desperate　way；　‘‘please　speak　to　your　father　about　it。''

‘‘I　certainly　shall；''　replied　the　girl。　　‘‘As　soon　as　he　comes　home　this　afternoon；　I'm　going　to　talk　to　him　about　that　damage　suit。　　That　has　got　to　be　straightened　out。''　　An　expression　of　resolution；　of　gentleness　and　justice　abruptly　transformed　her　face。　　‘‘You　may　not　believe　it；　but　I　have　a　conscience。''　　Absently；　‘‘A　curious　sort　of　a　conscienceone　that　might　become　very　troublesome；　I'm　afraidin　some　circumstances。''

Instantly　the　fine　side　of　David　Hull's　nature　was　to　the　forethe　dominant　side；　for　at　the　first　appeal　it　always　responded。　　‘‘So　have　I；　Jen；''　said　he。　　‘‘I　think　our　similarity　in　that　respect　is　what　draws　me　so　strongly　to　you。　　And　it's　that　that　makes　me　hope　I　can　win　you。　　Oh；　Jenthere's　so　much　to　be　done　in　the　worldand　you　and　I　could　have　such　a　splendid　happy　life　doing　our　share　of　it。''

She　was　once　more　looking　at　him　with　an　encouraging　interest。　　But　she　said；　gently：　　‘‘Let's　not　talk　about　that　any　more　to…day；　Davy。''

‘‘But　you'll　think　about　it？''　urged　he。

‘‘Yes；''　said　she。　　‘‘Let's　be　friendsandand　see　what　happens。''

Hull　strolled　up　to　the　house　with　her；　but　refused　to　stop　for　lunch。　　He　pleaded　an　engagement；　but　it　was　one　that　couldand　in　other　circumstances　would　have　been　broken　by　telephone。　　His　real　reason　for　hurrying　away　was　fear　lest　Jane　should　open　out　on　the　subject　of　Victor　Dorn　with　her　father；　and；　in　her　ignorance　of　the　truth　as　to　the　situation；　should　implicate　him。

She　found　her　father　already　at　home　and　having　a　bowl　of　crackers　and　milk　in　a　shady　corner　of　the　west　veranda。　　He　was　chewing　in　the　manner　of　those　whose　teeth　are　few　and　not　too　secure。　　His　brows　were　knitted　and　he　looked　as　if　not　merely　joy　but　everything　except　disagreeable　sensation　had　long　since　fled　his　life　beyond　hope　of　returnan　air　not　uncommon　among　the　world's　successful　men。　　However；　at　sight　of　his　lovely　young　daughter　his　face　cleared　somewhat　and　he　shot　at　her　from　under　his　wildly　and　savagely　narrowed　eyebrows　a　glance　of　admiration　and　tendernessa　quaint　expression　for　those　cold；　hard　features。

Everyone　spoke　of　him　behind　his　back　as　‘‘Old　Morton　Hastings。''

In　fact；　he　was　barely　past　sixty；　was　at　an　age　at　which　city　men　of　the　modern　style　count　themselves　young　and　even　entertainnot　without　reason　hope　of　being　desired　of　women　for　other　than　purely　practical　reasons。　　He　was　born　on　a　farm　was　born　with　an　aversion　to　physical　exertion　as　profound　as　was　his　passion　for　mental　exertion。　　We　never　shall　know　how　much　of　its　progress　the　world　owes　to　the　physically　lazy；　mentally　tireless　men。　　Those　are　they　who；　to　save　themselves　physical　exertion；　have　devised　all　manner　of　schemes　and　machines　to　save　labor。　　And；　at　bottom；　what　is　progress　but　man's　success　in　his　effort　to　free　himself　from　manual　labor　to　get　everything　for　himself　by　the　labor　of　other　men　and　animals　and　of　machines？　　Naturally　his　boyhood　of　toil　on　the　farm　did　not　lessen　Martin　Hastings'　innate　horror　of　‘‘real　work。''　　He　was　not　twenty　when　he　dropped　tools　never　to　take　them　up　again。　　He　was　shoeing　a　horse　in　the　heat　of　the　cool　side　of　the　barn　on　a　frightful　August　day。　　Suddenly　he　threw　down　the　hammer　and　said　loudly：　　‘‘A　man　that　works　is　a　damn　fool。　　I'll　never　work　again。''　　And　he　never　did。

As　soon　as　he　could　get　together　the　moneyand　it　was　not　long　after　he　set　about　making　others　work　for　himhe　bought　a　buggy；　a　kind　of　phaeton；　and　a　safe　horse。　　Thenceforth　he　never　walked　a　step　that　could　be　driven。　　The　result　of　thirty…five　years　of　this　life；　so　unnatural　to　an　animal　that　is　designed　by　Nature　for　walking　and　is　punished　for　not　doing　so　the　result　of　a　lifetime　of　this　folly　was　a　body　shrivelled　to　a　lean　brown　husk；　legs　incredibly　meagre　and　so　tottery　that　they　scarcely　could　bear　him　about。　　His