"
"Well, you won't hear anything else mentioned down here; it's the
one and only subject of conversation. Nobody thinks or talks or
dreams about anything except the canal. Everybody works on it or
else works for somebody who does. For instance, that white-haired
man at the other end of the table is Colonel Bland, one of the
commissioners. The man over there with the black beard is one of
the engineers at Gatun."
Stein, who seemed a gossipy person, ran on glibly for a time,
pointing out the passengers of note and giving brief details about
them. Suddenly he laid his hand on Anthony's arm, and said:
"See this fellow coming down the stairs?" Anthony beheld a
slender, bald-headed man of youthful appearance. "That is Stephen
Cortlandt. You've heard of the Cortlandts?"
"Sure! One of them pitched for the Cubs."
"I mean the Cortlandts of Washington. They're swell people,
society folks and all that--" He broke off to bow effusively to
the late comer, who seated himself opposite; then he introduced
Kirk.
Mr. Cortlandt impressed Anthony as a cold-blooded, highly schooled
person, absolutely devoid of sentiment. His face was stony, his
eyes were cool, even his linen partook of his own unruffled calm.
He seemed by no means effeminate, yet he was one of those
immaculate beings upon whom one can scarcely imagine a speck of
dust or a bead of perspiration.
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