The Avalanche - Page 36/95

Some time, however, he would have it out with his wife. Being a business

man and always alert to outwit the other man, he wanted neither intrigue

nor mystery in his home, but a serene happiness founded upon perfect

confidence. He found it impossible to remain appalled or angry at his

wife's readiness of resource in guarding a family secret that must have

shocked the youth in her almost out of existence.

He patted her hand, and felt its chill within the glove.

"It was like you never to have mentioned it," he murmured. "For, of

course, it is quite impossible."

"That is what I told her decidedly to-night, and I do not think she will

ask again. It hurts me to refuse dear maman anything. Her devotion to me

has been wonderful--but wonderful," she added on a defiant note.

"A mother's devotion, particularly to a girl of your sort, does not make

any call upon my exclamation points. But here we are."

III

The car rolled up the graded driveway Gwynne had built for the old San

Francisco house that before his day had been approached by an almost

perpendicular flight of wooden steps. They were late and the company

had assembled: the Thorntons, Trennahans, and eight or ten young

people, all of whom would be chaperoned by the married women to the

dance at the Fairmont.

Russian Hill had escaped the fire, but Nob Hill had been burnt down to

its bones, and the Thorntons and Trennahans had not rebuilt, preferring,

like many others, to live the year round in their country homes and use

the hotels in winter.

The moment Helene entered the drawing-room it was evident that the ruby

was to make as great a sensation as the soul of woman could desire. Even

the older people flocked about her and the girls were frank and shrill in

their astonishment and rapture.

"Helene! Darling! The duckiest thing--I never saw anything so perfectly

dandy and wonderful! I'd go simply mad! Do, just let me touch it! I

could eat it!"

Mrs. Thornton, who at any time scorned to conceal envy, or pretend

indifference, looked at the great burning stone with a sigh and turned to

her husband.

"Why didn't you manage to get it for me?" she demanded. "It would be far

more suitable--a magnificent stone like that!--on me than on that baby."

"My darling," murmured Ford anxiously, "I never laid eyes on the thing

before, or on one like it. I'll find out where Ruyler got it, and try--"