And then there was the tormenting,
bewitching, wretched, alluring uncertainty of it all. One could never
be sure, and in the spell of this disquietude lay half the magic.
Robert Morton speculated as to whether Willie, along with Jezebel and
the canary, had fathomed the idyl. He wondered, too, how much Snelling
suspected. The New Yorker had an irritating habit of waylaying Delight
and making pretty speeches to her, as if for the wanton pleasure of
watching the blush rise in her cheek. When it came to women there was
no denying Howard Snelling was as great an authority as at building
ships. He understood the sex and knew what pleased them, and with the
subtle art of a courtier he breathed into their ears a flattery too
delicate to be resented. Beside such an expert Bob, floundering in his
first real love affair, felt but a blunderer. Perhaps Mr. Snelling
realized this and rather enjoyed the amateur's chagrin. However that
may have been, he certainly let no opportunity slip for the display of
his proficiency. The discomfited lover fumed with jealous rage; yet on
analyzing the causes of his wrath he discovered he actually had but
scant ground for complaint.
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