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Updated: June 26, 2025
And with a Bolshevik, a Turkish refugee from Smyrna too!" "There were the Georgians for chaperons." "Georgians!" said Braybrooke, with almost sharp vivacity. "I really hate that word. We are all subjects of King George. No one has a right to claim a monopoly of the present reign. I waiter, bring me two more dry Martinis, please." "Yes, sir." "What was I saying?
"What did you think of him?" asked Braybrooke. As he put the question he was aware that he was being far from subtle. The vision in the distance now eating plum cake, but still very observant upset his nervous system and deprived him almost entirely of his usual savoir faire.
"She never does, except with Mrs. Clem, unless I want her." "How singularly unfortunate I am to-day!" thought Braybrooke, as he bowed to Miss Cronin in a rather confused manner and went to do as he was told. He ordered tea, then sat down anxiously to wait for Miss Van Tuyn.
Braybrooke was meditating a stroke against her. She had felt that in her drawing-room with him. For some reason perhaps only that of a social busybody he wanted to bring about a match between Craven and Miss Van Tuyn. He had said with emphasis that Craven had almost raved about the lovely American. Lady Sellingworth did not believe that assertion.
Clem Hodson stood looking imperious, and ready for any action that would prove her solidarity with her old schoolmate. "What she wants and you are going to call on Lady Sellingworth!" said Braybrooke. "Yes; and to-night I'm dining out." "Dining out to-night just so." There was no further excuse for delay, and he went towards the two old ladies, a grievous ambassador.
Both Braybrooke and Jim Bloxam, having been appealed to by Captain Conyers, said they could form no idea whatever of his capabilities.
It was just like him to spend two hours alone with her without saying one word about the living bronze, and then to rouse her curiosity when it was impossible that it should be gratified owing to the presence of Braybrooke. Garstin could never do anything in a pleasant and comfortable way. He must always, even in kindness, be semi-malicious.
He though it such a mistake for his distinguished friend to go wandering about in Soho alone with a mere boy. It was undignified. It was not the thing. He could not understand it unless really she was losing her head. And then he remembered her past. Although he never spoke of it, and now seldom thought about it, Braybrooke knew very well what sort of woman Adela Sellingworth had been.
"About our conversation in the club?" "I have seen him, and I don't think he is quite pleased about Shaftesbury Avenue. But never mind. I cannot live to please Mr. Braybrooke. Au revoir. Just before eight." When he had gone Lady Sellingworth again looked in the glass. "But it's impossible!" she said to herself. "It's impossible!"
And having thus done the needless thing he went away, walking with a certain unwonted self-consciousness which had its source solely in dry Martinis. Craven realized that he had "given himself away" directly Braybrooke was gone. The two empty glasses stood on a low table in front of his chair. He looked at them and for an instant was filled with anger against himself.
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