There was a great contrast in the aspect of the two, which accorded with
their obvious differences of mind and temperament. Briscoe, a man of
wealth and leisure, portly and rubicund, was in hunting togs, with
gaiters, knickers, jacket, and negligee shirt, while Bayne, with no trace
of the disorder incident to a long journey by primitive methods of
transportation, was as elaborately groomed and as accurately costumed in
his trig, dark brown, business suit as if he had just stepped from the
elevator of the sky-scraper where his offices as a broker were located.
His manner distinctly intimated that the subject was dismissed, but
Briscoe, who had as kindly a heart as ever beat, was nothing of a
diplomat. He set forth heavily to justify himself.
"You see--knowing that you were once in love with her----"
"Oh, no, my dear fellow," Bayne hastily interrupted; "I never loved
_her_. I loved only my own dream of one fair woman. It did not come true,
that's all."
Briscoe seemed somewhat reassured, but in the pervasive awkwardness of
his plight as host of both parties he could not quit the subject.
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