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Updated: June 29, 2025
It reminded him of Miss Bently's efforts in his behalf, but with the contrast that existed between Miss Bently and Annie. He now wondered that he could have been interested in such a vain, shallow creature as Mrs. Grobb had proved herself, and he excused himself on the ground that he had idealized her into something that she was not.
"No," returned Fred; "is it from anything in particular? I supposed it was just a general steal from the antique, and Stanton appropriates only to destroy." "I don't know what it is," was Bently's reply, "but I know there's a cut of it in a book I've got at the studio." Rangely's eyes flashed. "Good," said he, "I'll come round to-night and we'll look it up.
PARTED OUR FELLOWSHIP. Othello; ii. Tom Bently's studio that night was a sight well worth seeing. Tom had two rooms in Studio Building, opening into each other by folding doors, which were never known to be shut. The walls were hung with old French tapestry, its rich, soft colors harmonizing exquisitely with some dull-red velvet draperies from Venice.
Fruit, beer, and tobacco in various forms, with abundant glasses and pipes, completed the furnishing of the board, upon which a newspaper supplied the place of a cloth. Tom Bently's long, shapely limbs were disposed in a big easy-chair by the table, his tongue being just now employed in one of his not infrequent harangues upon art, his remarks being plentifully spiced with profanity.
This somewhat disingenuous argument created a profound impression. "Say, now you've said something!" declared the salesman. "You'd oughta been a lawyer yourself. Let's take another vote." Curiously enough Bently's argument seemed to have had a revolutionary effect, for the jury now stood ten to two for acquittal. He began to feel encouraged.
Among the Pagans the nomination of Mr. Calvin to the St. Filipe Club by Arthur Fenton had been received with a bitterness born of a feeling of outraged confidence. They were to-night to meet in Tom Bently's studio, and Fenton, who had no intention of being present, was yet keenly conscious of what the talk there concerning him would be.
"His relatives contested the will, but my lawyer has always assured me that he could at least secure a handsome amount for me, even if he could not win the whole. But the first of this week, I learned that I am to have almost nothing that there was not nearly as much as at first supposed, and Mr. Bently's relatives will get that: and so I am penniless."
"I shall never ask her to go anywhere again!" was his mental comment, as he tossed the note into the fire. All the rest of the week Alida stayed in her room as much as possible. Phil Bently's speech so rankled in her mind that she could take no pleasure in anything, not even in the making of May's costume, in which all the family were interested.
Arthur had been watching his companions and smoking in silence. He smiled brilliantly at Ainsworth's challenge. "I'm overwhelmed by Bently's oaths," he said. "He outdoes himself to-night." "When it comes time for Tom's epitaph," observed Rangely, "I shall suggest that it be a dash." "Why do you swear so?" inquired Ainsworth. "Don't you think it in execrable taste?" "Taste?" laughed Bently.
Are you comfortably settled in town? Do you need money?" "No," she answered, rising, "I do not want money." She went slowly down the studio without further word, only turning back as she passed Bently's picture for which she had posed, and which had been brought for the meeting of the Pagans. "You have seen," she said, "I am able to earn. I have learned much while I was bringing you that letter.
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