THE FINANCIER. Theodore Dreiser

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      “Why can’t it?” he asked.

      “Because — well, because I’m older. People would think it strange. I’m not long enough free.”

      “Oh, long enough nothing!” he exclaimed, irritably. “That’s the one thing I have against you — you are so worried about what people think. They don’t make your life. They certainly don’t make mine. Think of yourself first. You have your own life to make. Are you going to let what other people think stand in the way of what you want to do?”

      “But I don’t want to,” she smiled.

      He arose and came over to her, looking into her eyes.

      “Well?” she asked, nervously, quizzically.

      He merely looked at her.

      “Well?” she queried, more flustered.

      He stooped down to take her arms, but she got up.

      “Now you must not come near me,” she pleaded, determinedly. “I’ll go in the house, and I’ll not let you come any more. It’s terrible! You’re silly! You mustn’t interest yourself in me.”

      She did show a good deal of determination, and he desisted. But for the time being only. He called again and again. Then one night, when they had gone inside because of the mosquitoes, and when she had insisted that he must stop coming to see her, that his attentions were noticeable to others, and that she would be disgraced, he caught her, under desperate protest, in his arms.

      “Now, see here!” she exclaimed. “I told you! It’s silly! You mustn’t kiss me! How dare you! Oh! oh! oh! —”

      She broke away and ran up the near-by stairway to her room. Cowperwood followed her swiftly. As she pushed the door to he forced it open and recaptured her. He lifted her bodily from her feet and held her crosswise, lying in his arms.

      “Oh, how could you!” she exclaimed. “I will never speak to you any more. I will never let you come here any more if you don’t put me down this minute. Put me down!”

      “I’ll put you down, sweet,” he said. “I’ll take you down,” at the same time pulling her face to him and kissing her. He was very much aroused, excited.

      While she was twisting and protesting, he carried her down the stairs again into the living-room, and seated himself in the great armchair, still holding her tight in his arms.

      “Oh!” she sighed, falling limp on his shoulder when he refused to let her go. Then, because of the set determination of his face, some intense pull in him, she smiled. “How would I ever explain if I did marry you?” she asked, weakly. “Your father! Your mother!”

      “You don’t need to explain. I’ll do that. And you needn’t worry about my family. They won’t care.”

      “But mine,” she recoiled.

      “Don’t worry about yours. I’m not marrying your family. I’m marrying you. We have independent means.”

      She relapsed into additional protests; but he kissed her the more. There was a deadly persuasion to his caresses. Mr. Semple had never displayed any such fire. He aroused a force of feeling in her which had not previously been there. She was afraid of it and ashamed.

      “Will you marry me in a month?” he asked, cheerfully, when she paused.

      “You know I won’t!” she exclaimed, nervously. “The idea! Why do you ask?”

      “What difference does it make? We’re going to get married eventually.” He was thinking how attractive he could make her look in other surroundings. Neither she nor his family knew how to live.

      “Well, not in a month. Wait a little while. I will marry you after a while — after you see whether you want me.”

      He caught her tight. “I’ll show you,” he said.

      “Please stop. You hurt me.”

      “How about it? Two months?”

      “Certainly not.”

      “Three?”

      “Well, maybe.”

      “No maybe in that case. We marry.”

      “But you’re only a boy.”

      “Don’t worry about me. You’ll find out how much of a boy I am.”

      He seemed of a sudden to open up a new world to her, and she realized that she had never really lived before. This man represented something bigger and stronger than ever her husband had dreamed of. In his young way he was terrible, irresistible.

      “Well, in three months then,” she whispered, while he rocked her cozily in his arms.

      Chapter IX

       Table of Contents

      Cowperwood started in the note brokerage business with a small office at No. 64 South Third Street, where he very soon had the pleasure of discovering that his former excellent business connections remembered him. He would go to one house, where he suspected ready money might be desirable, and offer to negotiate their notes or any paper they might issue bearing six per cent. interest for a commission and then he would sell the paper for a small commission to some one who would welcome a secure investment. Sometimes his father, sometimes other people, helped him with suggestions as to when and how. Between the two ends he might make four and five per cent. on the total transaction. In the first year he cleared six thousand dollars over and above all expenses. That wasn’t much, but he was augmenting it in another way which he believed would bring great profit in the future.

      Before the first street-car line, which was a shambling affair, had been laid on Front Street, the streets of Philadelphia had been crowded with hundreds of springless omnibuses rattling over rough, hard, cobblestones. Now, thanks to the idea of John Stephenson, in New York, the double rail track idea had come, and besides the line on Fifth and Sixth Streets (the cars running out one street and back on another) which had paid splendidly from the start, there were many other lines proposed or under way. The city was as eager to see street-cars replace omnibuses as it was to see railroads replace canals. There was opposition, of course. There always is in such cases. The cry of probable monopoly was raised. Disgruntled and defeated omnibus owners and drivers groaned aloud.

      Cowperwood had implicit faith in the future of the street railway. In support of this belief he risked all he could spare on new issues of stock shares in new companies. He wanted to be on the inside wherever possible, always, though this was a little difficult in the matter of the street-railways, he having been so young when they started and not having yet arranged his financial connections to make them count for much. The Fifth and Sixth Street line, which had been but recently started, was paying six hundred dollars a day. A project for a West Philadelphia line (Walnut and Chestnut) was on foot, as were lines to occupy Second and Third Streets, Race and Vine, Spruce and Pine, Green and Coates, Tenth and Eleventh, and so forth. They were engineered and backed by some powerful capitalists who had influence with the State legislature and could, СКАЧАТЬ