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Updated: May 1, 2025
She sat with a solemn face, wondering how she could get back to the city. Finally she resolved to telephone Cairy. Falkner went over to the unconscious boy, and taking his hand, counted the pulse. "It's all right so far," he said to the mother, who did not hear him. After a time she looked up, and her low voice dragged hoarsely, "You mustn't wait.
I believe he just turns over and takes another nap!" "Cairy seems at home here," Vickers observed, sipping his coffee. "Of course, Tommy is one of the family," Isabelle replied lightly. "He is much more domesticated than John, though, since his great success last winter, he hasn't been up very much." "Has he made a great success?" Vickers inquired. "What at?" "Haven't you heard of his play!
She herself, as she had said, was not satisfied; but money as well as strength and her husband's dislike of "more building" had held her hand. "We all change," Vickers replied humorously. "I can't blame the old place for looking different. I have changed somewhat myself, and you, Cairy," he glanced at the figure by his sister's side, which had sleek marks of prosperity as well as the Farm, "too.
"She is the sort that must make destiny," agreed Cairy, feeling a literary satisfaction in the phrase and also pride that he could so generously play chorus to the Senator's praise. "I fancy she will marry again!" He wondered at the moment whether the Senator might not venture now to break his long widowerhood. The great man, stopping on the step of his club, remarked in a curious voice:
They sauntered up the avenue, at the pace required by Cairy's disability. The city, although filled with people loitering in holiday ease, had a strange air of subdued life, of Sunday peace, not disturbed even by the dashing motors. Isabelle, bubbling with the day's impressions, was eager to talk, and Cairy, as she had found him before at the Virginia Springs, was a sympathetic man to be with.
Cairy had already the atmosphere of success about him. He still limped in a distinguished manner, and his clothes marked him even in the company of well-dressed American men. He had grown stouter, was worried by the fear of flesh, as he confided to Vickers, and generally took himself with serious consideration. It was a far call from the days when he had been Gossom's ready pen.
"Tom is coming up to spend June when he gets back from the South." She waited for an expected remark, and then added, "If you dislike him as much as you used to, you had better take that time for Fosdick." "Do you want me to go?" "No, only I thought it might be more comfortable for you " "Cairy doesn't make me uncomfortable." "Oh well, you needn't worry about me, brother dear!"
"You make your own life, it isn't made for you," Cairy said. Isabelle was very busy these days. Thanks to the Potts regime, she was feeling almost well generally, and when she "went down," Dr. Potts was always there with the right drug to pull her up to the level. So she plunged into the question of altering the house, furnishing it, and getting it ready for the autumn.
The train was a halfhour late, and as she paced the court slowly, she realized that Cairy had come to the house, he was always prompt these days, had received the note, and was walking away, reading it, thinking what of her? Her lips tightened a trifle, as she glanced at the clock. "He will go to Isabella's," she said to herself. "He likes Isabelle."
And the appeal never wholly roused in the woman by him reached out now for him; but an appeal not merely of the senses, higher than anything Cairy could rouse in a woman, an appeal, limitless, of comradeship, purpose, wills. He kissed her, holding her close to him, realizing that she too held him in the inner place of her being. "We will begin again," he said. "Our new life together!"
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