Kelson dared not look
at John Martin or Gladys. The brief glance he had taken of them at the
conclusion of the giving away of the first trick had shocked him--and
he purposely stood with his back to them. With Hamar it was
otherwise--the joy of triumph was strong within him, and the picture
of John Martin, leaning forward in his chair, with his mouth half open
and a dazed, glassy expression in his eyes, only thrilled him with
pleasure; he laughed at the old man, and still more at Gladys.
"That's the way to treat a girl of that sort," he whispered to Kelson;
"scoff at her--scoff at her well. Let her see you don't care a snap
for her--and in the end she'll run after you and haunt you to death."
"I'm not so sure," Kelson said. "It might act in some cases, perhaps,
but I don't think you can quite depend on it."
"Pooh! You are no judge of women, in spite of all your experience,"
Hamar retorted. "I'll bet you anything you like she'll come round and
make a tremendous fuss of me."
"Supposing you fall in love with her, how about the compact?" Kelson
asked. "You've warned me often enough."
"Oh, but I'm not like you," Hamar replied. "There's nothing soft in my
nature. I fall in love! Not much! Why, you might as well have
apprehensions of my joining the Salvation Army, or wanting to become a
Militant Suffragette--either would be just about as possible. No--! I
shall make the girl love me--and we shall be engaged for just as long
as I please.
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