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Joan and Co.

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Title: Joan and Co.

Author: Frederick Orin Bartlett

 
Release date: February 26, 2026 [eBook #78046]

Language: English

Original publication: Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1919

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/78046

Credits: Matthew Sleadd, Emmanuel Ackerman and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOAN AND CO. ***
Italic represented by underscores surrounding the _italic text_.
Bold represented by equals signs surrounding the =bold text=.
Small capitals have been converted to ALL CAPS.

 JOAN & CO.

 =Books by Frederick Orin Bartlett=
 PUBLISHED BY
 A HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

 JOAN & CO.
 ONE YEAR OF PIERROT. Illustrated.
 THE TRIFLERS. Illustrated.
 THE WALL STREET GIRL. Illustrated.
 JOAN OF THE ALLEY. Illustrated.

 JOAN & CO.
 _By_

 FREDERICK ORIN BARTLETT

 [Illustration: Company logo]

 BOSTON AND NEW YORK
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
 _The Riverside Press Cambridge_

 COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY FREDERICK ORIN BARTLETT

 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 TO
 R. S. B.

 CONTENTS

 I. DICKY IS SERIOUS 1

 II. JOAN IS BORED 12

 III. CHANCE 22

 IV. THE DRIVER AND FATE 35

 V. BANDAGED 42

 VI. WHOSE FAULT? 51

 VII. A LETTER 64

 VIII. DICKY CALLS 71

 IX. THE FIGHTING THINGS 82

 X. AT HOME 93

 XI. THE SILENT PARTNER 104

 XII. JOAN & CO. 118

 XIII. A CHALLENGE 134

 XIV. PUMPKIN PIE 142

 XV. LIKE NAPOLEON 146

 XVI. THE DEVONS MANUFACTURING COMPANY 152

 XVII. UPTOWN AND DOWNTOWN 161

 XVIII. BEEF TEA 173

 XIX. PRINCESSES 183

 XX. THE FASTER GAME 198

 XXI. A CONFESSION 206

 XXII. A SALE 212

 XXIII. NO TIME TO WASTE 222

 XXIV. A VACATION 228

 XXV. DANGER 235

 XXVI. A NEW STENOGRAPHER 245

 XXVII. REAL NEWS 257

 XXVIII. THE BIG HOUR 270

 XXIX. A STRAIGHT TIP 281

 XXX. BANKRUPT 295

 XXXI. DISCHARGED 305

 XXXII. GOLF 311

 XXXIII. THE BIG CHANCE 317

 XXXIV. A BUSY MAN 333

 XXXV. LOVE 344

 XXXVI. THE DAY COMES 351

 XXXVII. BACK HOME 364

XXXVIII. THE LAST ACT 373

 JOAN & CO.

 Joan & Co.

 CHAPTER I

 DICKY IS SERIOUS

The New York social season in which Miss Joan Fairburne made her début
was not more than half finished before the quizzical smile in the dark
eyes, half closed above a slightly upturned, dainty nose, which gave
her an air of amused boredom at first so fascinating to Dicky Burnett,
became, instead of an occasional expression, rather more frequent than
befitted a young woman of twenty. Also it was rather too inclusive to
be complimentary. As long as it was directed merely in a general way
at the assembled company at _thé dansant_ or box party or cards or
dance, Dicky fell in with it, and, his long legs crossed before him and
his arms folded over his chest, he assumed an air of weary submission
which he was sure established between him and Miss Fairburne a bond of
common lack of interest. But when those same dark eyes with their long
lashes began to turn also in his direction, as he made his gay comments
intended to cause her to nod sympathetically, but which did nothing of
the sort, he grew uncomfortable. It was as if she brushed him into the
pile with the others.

It was the more humiliating because he realized that the girl was
sincere. She was startlingly and delightfully sincere. He had known
her now for two years; first as one of twenty girls at Wellesley when
he was a junior at Harvard; then, when he was a senior, as one of a
half-dozen; then, in these last few months after graduation, when he
was not anything in particular, as one of two or three girls; and
finally, within a week, as _the_ girl.

She did not know this yet, and every time he made up his mind to
tell her he hesitated. This was not because he lacked courage or
experience. He had never actually asked any one to marry him, but he
had come so near it once or twice on especial occasions-such as certain
moonlight nights on that yachting trip he had taken two summers before
with Haywood, and again on a week-end with Benton when he met the
fascinating widow-that he realized that only abstention from the easily
spoken words had saved him. And always by the next morning he was
congratulating himself.

This time, however, it was different; the next morning he was blaming
himself. Reviewing the evening before in the luxurious quiet of the
suite of rooms which ever since he was seventeen had been set apart for
him in his father's home, he thought of all the things he might have
said to her and had not said, and damned himself for one who had not
made the most of a rare opportunity.

Last night the Devereaux ballroom had been close with the crush
that filled it-it was like a room overcrowded with flowers-and she
had begged for a breath of fresh air. It was January, but Burnett
remembered the way to the little courtyard, and, finding her wrap and
overshoes, had led her to the tiny snow-dusted inclosure beneath the
white stars. He had taken her arm, and they walked back and forth in
the frosty night with the music coming to them muffled. It was a pretty
scene-a niche from another world, bounded by a high wall, with the
subdued light from the big windows cutting yellow across the snow, and
above them the illimitable purple. He had seen her lift her face-her
earnest, eager face, her beautiful half girl, half woman face; her
tender yet haughty face with its keen black eyes and its fine mouth.
She had stood so for a moment very erect like a princess challenging
the stars themselves, and breathing deep of some clearer air above. He
should have seized her then in his arms. He should have made her listen
to his words of love. He should have told her how, with everything
else in the world a man could crave, not having her he had nothing. He
should have told her how now she stood out among all the women in the
world as _the_ woman. And yet he had said nothing. He had watched her
in awe and said nothing. His heart beating in his throat, he had been
as tongue-tied as any freshman. Ass that he was!

Dicky Burnett continued, with variations, to libel himself in this
fashion all the while he dressed. To tell the truth, however, he
by no means looked the part he assigned to himself. He was rather
good-looking from either a man's or a woman's point of view. Tall,
lean, clean-cut, with an intelligent and good-humored face suggesting
in the nose and mouth elements of real strength, he was distinguished
in appearance above the average of his fello

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