A MAN'S HEARTH

CONTENTS


CHAPTER PAGE

I. TONY ADRIANCE----"MILLIONS, YOU KNOW!" 9

II. HIS NEIGHBOR'S WIFE 27

III. THE GIRL OUTSIDE 45

IV. THE WOMAN WHO GRASPED 55

V. THE LITTLE RED HOUSE 77

VI. THE WOMAN WHO GAVE 96

VII. THE DARING ADVENTURE 109

VIII. ANDY OF THE MOTOR-TRUCKS 110

IX. THE LUCK IN THE HOUSE 144

X. MRS. MASTERSON TAKES TEA 155

XI. THE GLOWING HEARTH 173

XII. THE UPPER TRAIL 184

XIII. WHAT TONY BUILT 203

XIV. THE CABARET DANCER 215

XV. THE OTHER MAN'S ROAD 229

XVI. THE GUITAR OF ALENYA OF THE SEA 243

XVII. RUSSIAN MIKE AND MAÎTRE RAOUL GALVEZ 261

XVIII. THE CHALLENGE 271

XIX. THE ADRIANCES 283

XX. THE CORNERSTONE 308




ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

Elsie felt the Glance pass across Her and Rest on Anthony _Frontispiece_

There Would Have Been no more Bedtime Romps for Masterson and His Son 71

The Winter was Hard and Long, but Never Dull to Them 173




A MAN'S HEARTH




CHAPTER I

TONY ADRIANCE--"MILLIONS, YOU KNOW!"


The man who had taken shelter in the stone pavilion hesitated before
taking a place on the curved bench before him. He had the air of
awaiting some sign of welcome or dismissal from the seat's occupant;
receiving none, he sat down and turned his gaze toward the broad Drive,
where people were scattering before the sudden flurry of rain. It
suggested spring rather than autumn, this shower that had swept out of a
wind-blown cloud and was already passing.

After a moment he drew a cigar-case from his pocket, then paused.
Obviously, he was not familiar with the etiquette of the public parks,
with their freedom and lack of formalities. He was beside a woman--a
girl. He had no wish to be inconsiderate, yet, to speak--in suspicious,
sardonic New York--that was to invite misconstruction, or a flirtation.
Still----

"May I smoke?" he suddenly and brusquely shot his question.

The girl turned towards him. Her eyes were as gray as the rain; heavily
shadowed by their lashes, their expression had a misted aloofness
suggesting thoughts hastily recalled from remote distances. He realized
that he might have come, smoked, and gone without drawing her notice any
more than a blowing leaf. She was not a beauty, but he liked the
clearing frankness of the glance with which she judged him, and judged
aright. He liked it, too, that she did not smile, and that her steadfast
regard showed neither invitation nor hostility.

"Thank you," she answered. "Please do."

The form of her reply seemed to him peculiarly gracious and unexpected,
as if she gave with both hands instead of doling out the merely
necessary. He never had known a woman who gave; they always took, in his
experience. Unconsciously he lifted his hat in acknowledgment of the
tone rather than the permission. That was all, of course. She returned
to her study of river and sky, while he drew out his cigar. But
afterward he looked at her, unobtrusively.

She was dressed altogether in black, but not the black of mourning, he
judged. The costume, plain but not shabby, conventional without being
up-to-date, touched him with a vague sense of familiarity, yet escaped
recognition. It should have told him something of her, but it did not,
except that she had not much money for frocks. He was only slightly
interested; he might not have glanced her way again if he had not been
struck by her rapt absorption in the sunset panorama before them.