To inexperience any comparison must
be to Bob's disadvantage, for Curtis was handsome, dressed with taste,
and gifted with a worldly certainty of manner and an undeniable charm.
Sarah had never encountered all these attributes in a single individual.
She drew on her reading of fiction and knew at once that she was in the
presence of that wonderful creature she had seen described so
frequently--a gentleman. As for Bob Allen, he was big, rugged, careless
of dress, kindly, without pretense of polish.... And besides, to
Curtis's advantage there attached to him a certain literary glamour--of
heirship--and a mystery due to his sudden appearance out of the great
unknown that lay beyond the confines of Coldriver.
"I am in the dark," said Curtis. "All I know is that Uncle Solon is
dead. It is proper I should come to you for information, is it not? For
instance, there is no harm in asking if there is a will?"
"None has been found," said Bob, not graciously. He had taken a dislike
to this stranger instinctively, a dislike which increased at an amazing
pace as he noted Curtis's eyes cast admiring glances upon Sarah Pound.
"In which case," said the young man, "I suppose I may regard myself as
an interested party.
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