Besides these, there were a great
many of those flimsy papers that record the state of things on 'Change,
hanging here and there on the brass rails of the desks, from little hooks
in the walls, and in any other available spot. And in all the premises
there was an air of business and prosperity, which seemed to denote that
Fenton and Co. were travelling at a rapid pace on the high-road to
fortune.
Gilbert Fenton sat in the inner office at noon one day about a week after
his return from Lidford. He had come to business early that morning, had
initialed a good many accounts, and written half-a-dozen letters already,
and had thrown himself back in his easy-chair for a few minutes' idle
musing--musing upon that one sweet dream of his new existence, of course.
From whatever point his thoughts started, they always drifted into that
channel.
While he was sitting like this, with his hands in his pockets and his
chair tilted upon its hind legs, the half-glass door opened, and a
gentleman came into the office--a man a little over middle height,
broad-shouldered, and powerfully built, with a naturally dark complexion,
which had been tanned still darker by sun and wind, black eyes and heavy
black eyebrows, a head a little bald at the top, and a face that might
have been called almost ugly but for the look of intellectual power in
the broad open forehead and the perfect modelling of the flexible
sensitive mouth; a remarkable face altogether, not easily to be forgotten
by those who had once looked upon it.
Pages:
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69