"Do you shoot?" he asked, in some surprise.
She nodded, and added modestly; "But I don't kill many ducks."
"Is there anything you can't do?" he questioned in admiration, then
demanded, with the touch of homesickness in his voice, "Are there any
mountains down there?"
"I'm afraid we can't provide any mountains," laughed Adrienne. "Just
salt marshes--and beyond them, the sea. But there's moonshine--of the
natural variety--and a tonic in the wind that buffets you."
"I reckon I'd like it, all right," he said, "and I'll bring you back
some ducks, if I'm lucky."
So, Lescott arranged the outfit, and Samson awaited the news of the
coming flights.
That same evening, Farbish dropped into the studio, explaining that he
had been buying a picture at Collasso's, and had taken the opportunity
to stop by and hand Samson a visitor's card to the Kenmore Club.
He found the ground of interest fallow, and artfully sowed it with
well-chosen anecdotes calculated to stimulate enthusiasm.
On leaving the studio, he paused to say: "I'll let you know when conditions are just right." Then, he added, as
though in afterthought: "And I'll arrange so that you won't run up on
Wilfred Horton."
"What's the matter with Wilfred Horton?" demanded Samson, a shade
curtly.
"Nothing at all," replied Farbish, with entire gravity. "Personally, I
like Horton immensely. I simply thought you might find things more
congenial when he wasn't among those present."
Samson was puzzled, but he did not fancy hearing from this man's lips
criticisms upon friends of his friends.
"Well, I reckon," he said, coolly, "I'd like him, too."
"I beg your pardon," said the other. "I supposed you knew, or I
shouldn't have broached the topic."
"Knew what?"
"You must excuse me," demurred the visitor with dignity. "I shouldn't
have mentioned the subject. I seem to have said too much."
"See here, Mr. Farbish," Samson spoke quietly, but imperatively; "if
you know any reason why I shouldn't meet Mr. Wilfred Horton, I want you
to tell me what it is. He is a friend of my friends. You say you've
said too much. I reckon you've either said too much, or too little."
Then, very insidiously and artistically, seeming all the while
reluctant and apologetic, the visitor proceeded to plant in Samson's
mind an exaggerated and untrue picture of Horton's contempt for him and
of Horton's resentment at the favor shown him by the Lescotts.