The Titans Read Online Free PDF

"Michael, won't you let me find some alcohol for that cut?" "No, thank you." He was still fuming over Louis' anger and contempt. More and more of late, friction was developing between them. It was one more aspect of the future to worry about. "I'm frightfully sorry you got hurt-was Julia began. "Just a scrape with a couple of street thugs." He perched on the edge of an empty desk. She walked around in front of him. "You could have avoided it if you'd joined us. I was looking forward to your company." Julia's remark was coupled with the sort of glance other men might have interpreted as very close to sexual invitation. Michael didn't because he'd seen such glances before. He knew they were automatic and impersonal. Louis Kent's wife was almost as diminutive as Theo Payne. She had glossy dark brown hair and blue eyes whose vividness was exaggerated by her porcelain-pale skin. Her expensive bell-sleeved gown matched the color of her eyes perfectly. The gown fitted closely over her breasts and was open to the waist, revealing a blouse of immaculate white muslin with a frilled collar. Her voluminous skirt over crinolines was trimmed with dark blue satin edged with pleated taffeta. Her hat was a shallow-crowned straw; the wide brim drooped exactly as far as fashion dictated. A dark blue satin rosette decorated the hat's front. Two matching satin streamers down the back had been carefully draped over her left shoulder. In weather 40Prologue more typical of November, an outer cloak would have completed the outfit. Julia stepped closer to him. "I can't see how you of all people could resist Delmonico's." It was a light jibe at his infamous appetite. He consumed huge quantities of food and never gained a pound. He didn't mind the teasing. But he did mind her physical nearness. He rose and stepped away: "I suppose it shows my slum upbringing, but I prefer the Bull's Head. The waiters shout in English instead of whispering bogus French." "But you've never met the Commodore!" "I've seen him driving his buggy along Broadway like a madman. That's enough for me." "Do you happen to know how old he is?" "Sixty-seven, sixty-eight-was "He's certainly spry. And he's a dear. A perfect original!" Michael wanted to laugh. If Cornelius Vanderbilt had been poor, no doubt she'd have said he was one of the most shabbily dressed, foul-mouthed men in New York. Louis, at least, was more honest-and calm again as he walked out of the office carrying a sheaf of copy for the morning edition: "That he is. I don't know many who can swear like a dock hand and chew Lorillard plug at the same time." Proudly, Julia said, "He invited us to Washington Place for cards after dinner." "We invited him down here instead," Louis added. "He went home." "Doesn't he care who wins the election?" Michael asked. "He cares more about playing whist." Julia pouted. "I did so want to see his house." "Ordinary," Louis told her. But the circumstances of its occupancy had been far from ordinary. The wife of the strong-willed The Titansbleda Commodore had originally refused to move from Staten Island to Manhattan. Vanderbilt had committed her to an insane asylum until she "came to her senses." "By the way, Michael," Louis said. "He does have some interesting plans concerning railroad shares. If we're lucky, he might let us in on a small basis." "Papa's already in," Julia declared. Michael nodded. He knew of Vanderbilt's ambition to acquire two short-line roads, the New York and Harlem and the New York and Hudson. The Kent family's bankers had told him on a confidential basis that the Commodore probably wanted to corner freight business in the state by linking the short lines with a larger prize--the New York Central connecting Albany with Buffalo. Julia kept watching Michael as he said, "Well, I'm sorry to have missed such a grand occasion. But the afternoon was a disaster. I needed lager beer more than either you or the Commodore needed my presence." Julia understood the remark was meant