There
will be a select little coterie. I fancy you can guess who will
comprise our little circle--our set, as you might call it. There are
better times ahead for you, Jenison. Your days of riding in a tableau
wagon are over. I shall expect you to join our exclusive little
circle--where may be found representatives of the best families in the
South and North. Portman, Jenison and Grand. Splendid names, my boy.
Ah, I see Mr. Braddock over there. We are dining this evening at the
best restaurant in town. Will you join us? Good! I shall expect you at
six."
He had not removed his eyes from the paling face of his auditor at any
time during this extraordinary speech. He saw surprise, dismay,
perplexity and indignation flit across that face, and in the end
something akin to stupefaction. Without waiting for David's response
to the invitation--which was a command--he smiled blandly and walked
away in the direction of the camel pen.
For a full minute Jenison stood there, staring after him, his heart as
cold as ice, his arms hanging nerveless at his sides. The real,
underlying motive of the man was slow in forcing itself into his
brain.
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