"Tell me, Mr. Pengarth," he said, "do I look like a man likely to fail
in anything he sets out to accomplish?"
The lawyer shook his head vigorously.
"You do not," he declared.
"Nor do I feel like one," Wingrave said, "and yet my record since I
commenced, shall I call it my second life, is one of complete failure!
Nothing that I planned have I been able to accomplish. I look back
through the months and through the years, and I see not a single
purpose carried out, not a single scheme successful.
"Not quite so bad as that, I trust, Sir Wingrave," the lawyer
protested.
"It is the precise truth," Wingrave affirmed drily. "I am losing
confidence in myself."
"At least," the lawyer declared, "you have been the salvation of our
dear Miss Juliet, if I may call her so. But for you, her life would
have been ruined."
"Precisely," Wingrave agreed. "But I forgot! You don't understand! I
have saved her from heaven knows what! I am going to give her the home
she loves! Benevolence, isn't it? And yet, if I had only the pluck, I
might succeed even now--so far as she is concerned."
The lawyer took off his spectacles and rubbed them with his
handkerchief. He was thoroughly bewildered.
"I might succeed," Wingrave repeated, leaning back in his chair, "if
only--"
His face darkened. It seemed to Mr. Pengarth as he sipped his tea
under the cool cedars, drawing in all their wonderful perfume with
every puff of breeze, that he saw two men in the low invalid's chair
before him.
Pages:
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255