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Updated: June 14, 2025
Imagine a dining-room in one of the principal hotels of New York, the hour midnight, after an evening at the opera, to which Cowperwood, as host, had invited Berenice, Lieutenant Braxmar, and Mrs. Carter. He was now playing the role of disinterested host and avuncular mentor.
"Have you broken with Mr. Braxmar?" asked her mother, curiously, nervously, hopefully, hopelessly. "I haven't seen him since," replied Berenice, lying conservatively. "I don't know whether I shall or not. I want to think." She arose. "But don't you mind, mother. Only I wish we had some other way of living besides being dependent on Mr. Cowperwood."
"Oh, you're so good," she more than once said to him a mist of gratitude commingled with joy in her eyes. "I would never have believed it of any one. But Bevy " "An esthete is an esthete," Cowperwood replied. "They are rare enough. I like to see a spirit as fine as hers move untroubled. She will make her way." Seeing Lieutenant Braxmar in the foreground of Berenice's affairs, Mrs.
She had been charmed by Braxmar, but her keen, analytic intelligence required some one harder, more vivid, more ruthless, some one who would appeal to her as an immense force. Yet she must be conservative, she must play what cards she had to win.
We can go home at once. You will feel better when you are out of here." She called a waiter and asked him to say to the gentlemen that they had gone to the women's dressing-room. She pushed an intervening chair out of the way and gave her mother her arm. "To think I should be so insulted," Mrs. Carter mumbled on, "here in a great hotel, in the presence of Lieutenant Braxmar and Mr. Cowperwood!
What would that gossiping, scandal-loving world of which she knew so much say to a scene like this? For the first time in her life the import and horror of social ostracism flashed upon her. The following morning, owing to a visit paid to the Jefferson Market Police Court by Lieutenant Braxmar, where he proposed, if satisfaction were not immediately guaranteed, to empty cold lead into Mr.
He explained how he and Braxmar had gone to the police station to make a charge; how Chadsey, sobered by arrest, had abandoned his bravado and humbly apologized. When viewing the letter handed him by Mrs. Carter he exclaimed: "Oh yes. He was very glad to promise to write that if we would let him off. Braxmar seemed to think it was necessary that he should.
She paused, perfectly poised, yet quite moved really, as charming a figure as one would have wished to see part Greek, part Oriental contemplative, calculating. In that moment, for the first time, Braxmar realized that he was talking to some one whom he could not comprehend really.
She thought of marriage, but decided that instead of sending for Braxmar or taking up some sickening chase of an individual even less satisfactory it might be advisable to announce in a simple social way to her friends that her mother had lost her money, and that she herself was now compelled to take up some form of employment the teaching of dancing, perhaps, or the practice of it professionally.
Braxmar was quite ready to lunge at him had not the officer intervened. Back in the dining-room Berenice and her mother were sitting, the latter quite flustered, pale, distrait, horribly taken aback by far too much distressed for any convincing measure of deception. "Why, the very idea!" she was saying. "That dreadful man! How terrible! I never saw him before in my life."
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