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Updated: June 10, 2025
Isabelle remarked, feeling that Cairy's success might point for Vickers his own defeat, and stir him into healthy action. "What? Write a play?" "No you old dear!" She caressed his hand. "I think it would be good for you to feel you were doing something in the world, instead of running about with that absurd child." She wanted to say much more about Delia Conry, but bided a more fitting time.
It would not have been thus if he had lost his fortune, the work of all his years. Such a fate he would have looked in the eye, with raised head.... That night Vickers and Stacia Conry left for New York, and a few days later Mrs. Price read their names in a list of outgoing passengers for Genoa. She did not show the list to the Colonel, and their son's name was never mentioned in the house.
Price her son's determination was merely an unexpected outburst of wild folly, such as happened in other families, coming rather late in Vick's life, but by no means irremediable. Vickers had fallen into the hands of a designing woman, who intended to capture a rich man's son. Her first thought was that the Colonel would have to buy Mrs. Conry off, as Mr.
Conry demanded of his wife. "Did you sing good, make a hit with the swells? She thinks she wants to sing," he explained with a wink to Vickers, "but I tell her she's after sassiety, that's what the women want; ain't it so?" "Mrs. Conry sang very well indeed," Vickers remarked in default of better, and rose to leave. "Don't go, what's your hurry? Have something to drink?
I got some in there you don't see every day in the week, young man. A racing friend of mine from Kentuck sends it to me. What's yours, Stacy?" ... When the young man departed, Stacia Conry stared at the door through which he had disappeared, with a dead expression that had something disagreeable in it. Conry, who had had his drink, came back to the parlor and began to talk.
She may be divorced she may be the other thing! You can't tell. But she is a very handsome woman."... Mrs. Conry herself told Vickers the facts, as they sat at a little restaurant on the Aventine where they loved to go to watch the night steal across the Palatine. "... He offered me my education my chance. I took it. I went to the conservatory at Cincinnati.
Here life began and closed, and neither wished to know what the other had been in the world behind. That she was from some Southern state, "a little tiny place near the Gulf, far from every civilized thing," Mrs. Conry told him; and it was plain enough that she was meagrely educated, there had been few advantages in that "tiny place."
He had the fragments of a score for an opera that he had scarce looked at since he had begun "to sell nails"; but to-night he took it from the drawer and ran it over, "Love Among the Ruins," and as he went to sleep he saw Stacia Conry singing as she had sung that last night in Rome, singing the music of his opera, success and fame at her feet.... The something that Mrs.
Conry with the director of a famous orchestra, who happened to be in the city. "You must go to-morrow?" Vickers asked at last. "I may get a reply from Moller any day." Mrs. Conry looked at him out of her gray eyes, as if she were thinking many things that a woman might think but could not say, before she replied slowly: "My husband's coming back to-morrow to get me."
Conry, to help her get a separation from her husband, to send her abroad with her child, to all of which Vickers replied steadily: "But I love her, father you forget that! And she needs me now!" "Love her!" the old man cried. "Don't call that love!" Vickers shut his lips and rose, very white. "I must go now. Let's not say any more. We've never had any bitter words between us, father.
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