"Don't
feel that we've hurried you away, but come in again, whenever you feel
like it."
"Thank you, my dear," he said, and went away.
Louise approached the open window, that led to a broad balcony. The
people in the next flat--young Mr. Isham, the son of the great
banker, and his wife--were sitting on the balcony, overlooking the
street, but Louise decided to glance over the rail to discover if the
young gentleman she so eagerly awaited chanced to be in sight.
As she did so Mr. Isham cried in great excitement:
"There he is, Myra--that's him!" and pointed toward the sidewalk.
"Whom?" enquired Mrs. Isham, calmly.
"Why John Merrick! John Merrick, of Portland, Oregon."
"And who is John Merrick?" asked the lady.
"One of the richest men in the world, and the best client our house
has. Isn't he a queer looking fellow? And dresses like a tramp. But
he's worth from eighty to ninety millions, at least, and controls most
of the canning and tin-plate industries of America. I wonder what
brought him into this neighborhood?"
Louise drew back from the window, pale and trembling. Then she caught
up a shawl and rushed from the room.
Pages:
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237