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Updated: May 3, 2025
Christine had been right when she told Riatt that Nancy Almar would be resentful after a dull evening at the Usshers'. The evening, as far as Nancy was concerned, had been very dull indeed.
That midday train is taken off in winter. Didn't the footman tell you? Stupid young man; but he's new and has not learnt the trains yet, I suppose. Do you want to send a telegram? They have to be telephoned here, but if you write it out I'll have it sent for you." "How wonderful you are, Laura," murmured Mrs. Almar. Mrs. Ussher looked vague. "In what way, dear?"
"I never attend to business during church hours, Laura," he answered. "We'll talk about it after lunch, if you like." Laura had learnt the art of yielding gracefully. "That will do just as well," she said, and sat down to watch the game. Presently Wickham, seeing that Mrs. Almar seemed to be safely engaged, ventured back. And they were all thus innocently occupied when luncheon was announced.
Almar were to go in her tiny coupé, and the four others in Linburne's large car. "And so," she observed as soon as they started, "the mouse preferred the trap after all?" And he could feel that she was laughing at him in the shadow. "But feels none the less grateful for the kind intention to rescue him." "Oh, I don't care much for the gratitude of a man in love with another woman."
She had had this sort of thing tried too often not to be on her guard. Mrs. Ussher leant forward. "Max was just saying that Christine looks like an angel." Nancy looked at him and made a very slight grimace. "Are you so awfully strong for angels?" she said. He laughed. "I never met one before." "You haven't met one to-night." "You mean that you're not an angel, Mrs. Almar?"
Almar was concerned it had not succeeded at all, in fact, though he did not know it, nothing he said would ever succeed with her again, although a week before she had hung upon his every word. He had been a new discovery, something unknown and Bohemian, but alas, a day or two before, she had observed that underlying his socialistic theories was an aching desire for social recognition.
"I wonder," said Riatt, "what is the difference, if any, between a pirate and a bucaneer? Miss Fenimer and Mrs. Almar seem to me to have many qualities in common." "Oh, Max, how can you say that? Christine is so much more gentle and womanly, so much " "My dear Laura, we haven't very much time, and I think you said you wanted to talk to me on a business matter."
Nancy of course would not have dreamed of crowding three women into her box, so the party consisted of herself and Christine, Riatt, Roland Almar a pale, eager, little man, trying to placate the world with smiles, and once again Linburne, whose handsome dark head, and curved mouth, half cynical, half sensuous, began to weary Riatt inexpressibly. After dinner he found that he and Mrs.
But whatever his sentiments may be, I've been quite open about mine. I'm not in love with him. In view of all this, Nancy, do you think it advisable that I accept his offer?" Mrs. Almar had never been considered particularly good-tempered. Now she jumped to her feet with her eyes positively blazing.
The situation had begun to seem like a game to him, or some absurd farce in which he was only reading some regular actor's part; and when presently the door opened to admit Mrs. Almar, he felt as if she had been waiting all the time in the wings. Nancy stopped with a gesture of surprise, on finding that she was interrupting a tête-
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