Читать книгу The Running Fight онлайн

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The words fell dully on his ears.

" ... Someone else," he repeated. He looked at her long and searchingly before continuing:

"But how can there be anyone else? I've got all the money that there is in little old New York! What more do you want? Who else——" And then, without waiting for a reply: "It isn't Wilgerot? No? Then it's Debevoise?"

She shook her head.

"Look here, Madeline, it isn't that Dumont Mapes?" he cried. "You wouldn't shake me for a rake like that, would you?"

"I can't tell you who it is," was all the girl would say.

"But I want to know," insisted the man. "You've got to tell me."

"If you must know, then, it is a man I love—a man I'm going to marry," she answered softly.

Wilkinson returned to his desk, to a fresh cigar. This was another problem, and problems were in his line, it seemed.

"You're going to marry somebody rich, I suppose," he said at length.

A smile crossed her face.

"Somebody poor," she answered.

"Poor! Why in heaven's name should you marry somebody that's poor?"