"
"Oh, see here, now, Cortlandt is more than a clerk."
"He's an errand-boy. He knows it, she knows it, and a few other
people know it. He's the figurehead behind which she works. She's
a rich woman, she loves the game--her father was the greatest
diplomat of his time, you know--and she married Cortlandt so she
could play it. Any other man would have served as well, though
I've heard that he showed promise before she blotted him out and
absorbed him. But now he's merely her power of attorney."
Anthony pursed his lips into a whistle of astonishment. As usual,
he reflected, his judgment had been strictly college-made.
"It's been a good thing for him," Runnels ran on, evidently warmed
to his subject. "She's made his reputation; he has money and
position. For my part, I'd rather remain insignificant and have a
real wife, even if she does have hysterics over a club button."
"Don't they love each other?"
"Nobody knows. She's carved out of ice, and, as for him, well,
gratitude is a good deal like rust--in time it destroys the thing
it clings to. I suppose I'm talking too much, but others would
tell you the same things. I consider her the smartest woman I ever
met, and I admire her immensely. You are mighty fortunate to be
her friend.
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