Burned Bridges - Page 111/167

Thompson went to Vancouver to spy out the land. He made no confidants.

He went about the Terminal City with his mouth shut and his ears and

eyes open. What he saw and heard soon convinced him that like the

Israelites of old he stood upon the border of a land which--for his

business purpose--flowed with milk and honey. It was easy to weave air

castles. He could visualize a future for himself in Vancouver that

loomed big--if he could but make the proper arrangements at the other

end; that is to say, with Mr. John P. Henderson, President of the Summit

Motors Corporation. Thompson had faith enough in himself to believe he

could make such an arrangement, daring as it seemed when he got down to

actual figures.

It gave him a curious sense of relief to find Tommy Ashe flirting with

the Petit Six people, apparently forgetful of the Summit specifications.

Thompson hadn't quite taken as his gospel the sound business ethic that

you must look out for number one first, last and always. If Tommy had

broached the subject personally, if he had shown anxiety to acquire

selling rights in the Summit, Thompson would have felt impelled by sheer

loyalty of friendship to help Tommy secure the agency. That would have

been quixotic, of course. Nevertheless, he would have done it, because

not to do it would have seemed like taking a mean advantage. As it was-For the rest he warmed to the sheer beauty of the spot. Vancouver

spreads largely over rolling hills and little peninsular juttings into

the sea. From its eminences there sweep unequalled views over the Gulf

of Georgia and northwestward along towering mountain ranges upon whose

lower slopes the firs and cedars marshal themselves in green battalions.

From his hotel window he would gaze in contented abstraction over the

tidal surges through the First Narrows and the tall masts of shipping in

a spacious harbor, landlocked and secure, stretching away like a great

blue lagoon with motor craft and ferries and squat tugs for waterfowl.

Thompson loved the forest as a man loves pleasant, familiar things, and

next to the woods his affection turned to the sea. Here, at his hand,

were both in all their primal grandeur. He was very sure he would like

Vancouver.

Whether the fact that he encountered the Carrs before he was three days

in town, had dinner at their home, and took Sophie once to luncheon at

the Granada Grill, had anything to do with this conclusion deponent

sayeth not. To be sure he learned with the first frank gleam in Sophie's

gray eyes that she still held for him that mysterious pulse-quickening

lure, that for him her presence was sufficient to stir a glow no other

woman had ever succeeded in kindling ever so briefly. But he had

acquired poise, confidence, a self-mastery not to be disputed. He said

to himself that he could stand the gaff now. He could face facts. And

he said to himself further, a little wistfully, that Sophie Carr was

worth all the pangs she had ever given him--more.