Page:The Plutocrat (1927).pdf/22

 Even if he lived through the next eleven days and three quarters, he would never in his life dislike anybody more than he did that suffering woman, he thought, but presently discovered that he was capable of a deeper antipathy. This was for a visitor who came to cheer the prostrate ladies; a man with a hearty voice of a kind that Ogle detested even when he was well. It was a husky voice, but free, easy, and loud; an untrained voice whose owner had never become conscious of the sound of it in other people's ears. Moreover, it was a voice that burred its r's, shortened its a's, and slurred and buried syllables in the Midland manner. "Middle West people!" Ogle moaned to himself. "Right in the next cabin to me! I've got to listen to them all the way over! That on top of this!" Feebly he called upon his Maker.

"Hah, but it's a great night!" the hearty voice exclaimed; and into Ogle's poisoned heart there came a profound animosity; for obviously here was a man undamaged, in perfect health. "Reg'lar January ocean weather, they tell me," this impervious man said cheerily. Honey, how's Baby?

The inquiry was bad for Ogle; he was a fastidious young man, sensitive to language, and the words upset him, though he was brave enough to repeat