In his youth he had overtaxed his strength on the football
field. When he took up a newspaper now he read the money column first
and the sporting items next.
Mrs. Vansittart glanced at neither of these, and as often as not
contented herself with the advertisements of new books, passing idly
over the news of the world with a heedless eye. She, at all events,
avoided the mistake, common to men and women of a journalistic
generation, of allowing themselves to be vastly perturbed over events
in far countries, which can in no way affect their lives.
Roden, on the other hand, took a certain broad interest in the progress
of the world, but only watched the daily procession of events with the
discriminating eye of a business man. He kept his eye, in a word, on
the main chance, as on a small golden thread woven in the grey tissue
of the world's history.
It was easy enough to make him talk of himself and of the Malgamite
scheme.
"And you must admit that you are a success, you know," said Mrs.
Vansittart. "I see your quiet grey carts, full of little square boxes,
passing up Park Straat to the railway station in a procession every
day."
"Yes," admitted Roden. "We are doing a large business."
He was willing to allow Mrs. Vansittart to suppose that he was a rich
man, for he was shrewd enough to know that the affections, like all
else in this world, are purchasable.
"And there is no reason," suggested Mrs.
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