The Maker of Opportunities

From there on, the luck varied and at the Stockbridge farm the score stood McLemore, 21; Ventnor, 30. It seemed a difficult lead to overcome, for the Sphynx was playing straight...

Patricia's dinner drew to its delectable close, and coffee had already been served when the butler went to the front door and brought back a telegram on a silver tray.

Patricia stood in the hallway a moment looking at the note to Aurora, which she held in her fingers. Then she went to the desk so recently vacated by her guest and wrote steadil...

Patricia awoke rudely and with an appalling sense that she had made a shocking fool of herself. Heywood Pennington suddenly vanished out of her life as completely as though Fift...

"It's lucky Ollie Farquhar's fat," said Mortimer Crabb when Geltman was out of earshot. "It was neat, Jepson, beautifully neat. Did you ever see fish take the bait better? But h...

Thus ended the might-have-beens. And the thing that Patricia had taken to be the phantom of romance went up in the smoke of John Doe's fire. Mortimer Crabb never volunteered any...

Patricia Wharton stood a moment on the edge of the terrace after the dance, slipped her hand into Mortimer Crabb's arm and came down upon the path, drawing a drapery across her...

These mornings in the studio were full of subtleties. Miss Darrow discovered that Burnett could talk upon many subjects. He had traveled much in Europe, and could even draw a bo...

A week had passed since the two friends had met, and the _Blue Wing_ now lay in the Potomac near the Seventh Street wharf. It was night and the men had dined.

That was one of many cruises, and the _Blue Wing_ contributed not a little to the gayety of the waning days of summer at Mount Desert. It was the _Blue Wing_, too, that in early...

After this first success, Patricia was filled with the spirit of altruism, and winter and summer went out upon the highways and byways seeking the raw material for her fateful l...

Even Mortimer Crabb was excluded from that charming luncheon of four. It was very informal and great was the merriment at Patricia's expense, but through it all she smiled calml...

As the fog upon his memory still hung heavily he raised his head toward the man at the door of the cabin. That person was eyeing him rather pityingly and had come a step forward...

He had always possessed an attitude of amused and tolerant patronage for the City of Brotherly Love--it was the birthright of any typical New Yorker--and yet since that inconsid...

A pleasant face it was, upon which, to her surprise, a smile very suddenly grew into being as though in response to her own. Patricia's eyes dropped quickly--sedately, as became...

It was two o'clock. Mr. Mortimer Crabb pushed back the chair from his breakfast tray and languidly took up the morning paper. He had a reputation (in which he delighted) of dwel...

Several days passed. Ross Burnett moved about the studio adjusting a canvas upon an easel, bringing out draperies, raising and lowering curtains, and peering into drawers and ch...

The months of winter passed and Crabb returned not. July found the Whartons again at Bar Harbor. Patricia would go out for hours in her canoe or her sailboat, rejoicing with bro...

For a moment there was no sound. The burglars looked at the Baron and the Baron looked at the burglars, mouths and eyes open alike. Then, even before Crabb could display his int...

It was very pleasant under the subdued lights from above. She followed the sweep of the drapery with delighted eye, taking an almost sensuous pleasure in the relation of color a...

Miss Wharton rather crossly dismissed her weary maid, and threw herself into an armchair. Odious situation! Her peccadillo had found her out! What made the matter still worse wa...

toward the window when Crabb seized him by the arm. There was a step in the hallway without, and the door opened. There, stout and grizzled, his walrus mustache bristling with s...