miling bows.
After Miss Taylor came there had been calls and casual intercourse, to
Mrs. Grey's great gratification and Mrs. Vanderpool's mingled amusement
and annoyance. Mrs. Grey announced the arrival of the Easterlys and John
Taylor for the week-end. As Mrs. Vanderpool could think of nothing less
boring, she consented to dine.

The atmosphere of Mrs. Grey's ornate cottage was different from that of
the Vanderpools. The display of wealth and splendor had a touch of the
barbaric. Mary Taylor liked it, although she found the Vanderpool
atmosphere more subtly satisfying. There was a certain grim power
beneath the Greys' mahogany and velvets that thrilled while it appalled.
Precisely that side of the thing appealed to her brother. He would have
seen little or nothing in the plain elegance yonder, while here he saw a
Japanese vase that cost no cent less than a thousand dollars. He meant
to be able to duplicate it some day. He knew that Grey was poor and less
knowing than he sixty years ago.

The dead millionaire had begun his fortune by buying and selling
cotton--travelling in the South in reconstruction times, and sending his
agents. In this way he made his thousands. Then he took a step forward,
and instead of following the prices induced the prices to follow him.
Two or three small cotton corners brought him his tens of thousands.
About this time Easterly joined him and pointed out a new road--the
buying and selling of stock in various cotton-mills and other industrial
enterprises. Grey hesitated, but Easterly pushed him on and he made his
hundreds of thousands. Then Easterly proposed buying controlling
interests in certain large mills and gradually consolidating them. The
plan grew and succeeded, and Grey made his millions.

Then Grey stopped; he had money enough, and he would venture no farther.
He "was going to retire and eat peanuts," he said with a chuckle.

Easterly was disgusted. He, too, had made millions--not as many as Grey,
but a few. It was not, however, simply money that he wanted, but power.
The lust of financial dominion had gripped his soul, and he had a vision
of a vast trust of cotton manufacturing covering the land. He talked
this incessantly into Grey, but Grey continued to shake his head; the
thing was too big for his imagination. He was bent on retiring, and just
as he had set the date a year hence he inadvertently died. On the whole,
Mr. Easterly was glad of his partner's definite withdrawal, s