to look. But they gloried in their shame. If you tactfully pretended not
to see them, Helen shouted at you. She made you feel you had been caught
doing something indelicate and underhand.
The mothers of Fair Harbor were rather slow in accepting young
Latimer. So many of their sons had seen Helen shake her head in that
inarticulate, worried way, and look so sorry for them, that any strange
young man who apparently succeeded where those who had been her friends
for years had learned they must remain friends, could not hope to escape
criticism. Besides, they did not know him: he did not come from Boston
and Harvard, but from a Western city. They were told that at home, at
both the law and the game of politics, he worked hard and successfully;
but it was rather held against him by the youth of Fair Harbor that
he played at there games, not so much for the sake of the game as for
exercise. He put aside many things, such as whiskey and soda at two in
the morning, and bridge all afternoon, with the remark: "I find it does
not tend toward efficiency." It was a remark that irritated and, to the
minds of the men at the country clubs, seemed to place him. They liked
to play polo because they liked to play polo, not because it kept their
muscles limber and their brains clear.
"Some Western people were telling me," said one of the matrons, "that he
wants to be the next lieutenant-governor. They say he is very ambitious
and very selfish."
"Any man is selfish," protested one who for years had attempted to marry
Helen, "who wants to keep Helen to himself. But that he should wish to
be a lieutenant-governor, too, is rather an anticlimax. It makes one
lose sympathy."
Latimer went on his way without asking any sympathy. The companionship
of Helen Page was quite sufficient. He had been working overtime and was
treating himself to his first vacation in years--he was young--he was
in love and he was very happy. Nor was there any question, either, that
Helen Page was happy. Those who had known her since she was a child
could not remember when she had not been happy, but these days she wore
her joyousness with a difference. It was in her eyes, in her greetings
to old friends: it showed itself hourly in courtesies and kindnesses.
She was very kind to Latimer, too. She did not deceive him. She told him
she liked better to be with him than with any one else,--it would have
been difficult to deny to him what was apparent to an entire summe
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