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Mr Keith is a Scotsman, and such are commonly good reasoners and love a tilt; and 'tis but well in a young man to keep his wits in practice. But we must not get too far, you know." "Just so! just so!" saith Father, who I think was glad to have a stop put to this sort of converse. "Mr Bagnall, I am sure, bears no malice. Sir Robert, when do the Holme Cultram hounds meet next?"
There was a certain hopefulness in the atmosphere, and yet a pathos such as there always is in Spring, when it walks through London ways, bearing itself half nervously, like a country cousin. "I don't like this time of year," said Lady Cardington. She was leaning back and glancing anxiously about her. "But why not?" asked Lady Holme. "What's the matter with it?" "Youth." "But surely "
"You think Holme a poor talker?" asked Sir Donald. "Precious poor. His brain is muscle-bound, I believe. Robin, you know I'm miserable to-night you offer me nothing to drink." "I beg your pardon. Help yourself. And, Sir Donald, what will you ?" "Nothing, thank you." "Try one of those cigars." Sir Donald took one and lit it quietly, looking at Carey, who seemed to interest him a good deal.
But the American smiled faintly as Lady Holme and Robin disappeared into the hall. Then she said, in reply to her animated companion: "I'm sure if I am like Lady Holme I ought to say Te Deum and think myself a lucky girl. I ought, indeed." Lady Holme had not been in the ballroom five minutes before Leo Ulford came up smiling.
Lady Holme looked definitely dubious. "I'll tell you who'll be there Lady Cardington, Lady Manby, Mrs. Trent do you know her? Spanish looking, and's divorced two husbands, and's called the scarlet woman because she always dresses in red Sally Perceval, Miss Burns and Pimpernel Schley." "Pimpernel Schley! Who is she?" "The American actress who plays all the improper modern parts.
For a moment it seemed to Lady Holme as if she and the American were merely victims of the morbid conditions amid which they lived; conditions which caused the natural vanity of women to become a destroying fever, the natural striving of women to please a venomous battle, the natural desire of women to be loved a fracas, in which clothes were the armour, modes of hair-dressing, manicure, perfumes, dyes, powder-puffs the weapons.
"Oh, Miss Holme," she sobbed, "and I was not even kind to him! And now it is too late. How can I ever bear myself?" And then it was that the soul knew its own remorse. SHE had left him alone and neglected for whole hours when he was alive.
"I don't know. Some weeks." "Why didn't you tell me?" "I did. I said I had met her at Mrs. Wolfstein's lunch." "No, but why didn't you tell me how like you she was?" There was complete silence in the brougham for a minute. Then Lady Holme said: "I had no idea she was like me." "Then you're blind, old girl. She's like you if you'd been a chorus-girl and known a lot of things you don't know."
"Besides," I added, "it will make the thing seem more natural if everybody wonders what on earth could have been the reason for their marrying each other." Brown wasted no further words on me, but turned to MacShaughnassy. "Can you imagine our friend Reuben seized with a burning desire to marry Mary Holme?" he asked, with a smile.
They go everywhere, and stay just as long as they please. I could not count how many times this summer they have camped out for the night on Havnholme, and the Grün holme, and the Ootskerries. Guess they'll be surprised at the waking up they'll get tomorrow!"
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