From his window, Breitmann could see them plainly.

"Damn those scars!" he murmured, striking with his fist the disfigured
cheek, which upon a time had been a source of pride and honor. "Damn
them!"




CHAPTER IX

THEY DRESS FOR DINNER

Breitmann watched them as long as he could. There was no jealousy in
his heart, but there was bitterness, discontent, a savage
self-pillorying. He was genuinely sorry that this young woman was so
pretty; still, had she the graces of Calypso, he must have come. She
would distract him, and he desired at that time distraction least of
all diversions. Concentration and singleness of purpose--upon these
two attributes practically hung his life. How strangely fate had
stepped with him. What if there had not been that advertisement for a
private secretary? How then should he have gained a footing in this
house? Well, here he was, and speculation was of no value, save in a
congratulatory sense. The fly in the amber was the presence of the
young American; Fitzgerald, shrewd and clever, might stumble upon
something. Well, till against that time!

His room was pleasant, a corner which gave two excellent views, one of
the sea and the other of the orchard. There was no cluttering of