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Updated: June 3, 2025
Jim, and their recent pride in his triumph over Peter Cheever was turned to ashes. He had married into the movies! They supposed that he must have been drinkin' very 'ard. Jim's valet said: "This is as good as handin' me my notice." But, then, Dallam was a ratty soul and was for deserting a sinking ship. Wotton and the others felt that their loyalty was only now to be put to the test.
Although Lily Dallam had declared that to leave her house before midnight was to insult her, it was half-past eleven when Honora and her husband reached home. He halted smilingly in her doorway as she took off her wrap and laid it over a chair. "Well, Honora," he asked, "how do you like the whirl of fashion?"
She excused herself instead, and hurried back towards her room. On the way she met Howard in the corridor, and he held a telegram in his hand. "I've got some bad news, Honora," he said. "That is, bad from the point of view of our honeymoon. Sid Dallam is swamped with business, and wants me in New York. I'm afraid we've got to cut it short." To his astonishment she smiled.
Honora, of course, blushed to her temples, and everybody laughed even Mrs. Chandos. "Glad," said Mr. Brent, with his eyes on Honora, "does not quite express it. You usually have a supply of superlatives, Lily, which you might have drawn on." "Isn't he irrepressible?" demanded Lily Dallam, delightedly, "he's always teasing."
If there were leisure in this too-leisurely chronicle for what might be called aftermath, the dinner that Honora had given to some of her Quicksands friends might be described. Suffice it to recall, with Honora, that Lily Dallam, with a sure instinct, had put the finger of her wit on this new attribute of Howard's. "You'll kill me, Howard!" she had cried.
Lily Dallam was almost sure to be out, or going out immediately, and seemed to have more engagements than any one in New York. "I'm so sorry, my dear," she would say, and add reproachfully: "why didn't you telephone me you were coming? If you had only let me know we might have lunched together or gone to the matinee. Now I have promised Clara Trowbridge to go to a lunch party at her house." Mrs.
Cray, a confidential clerk in Howard's office, who informed her that her husband had been obliged to leave town suddenly on business, and would not be home that night. "Didn't he say where he was going?" asked Honora. "He didn't even tell me, Mrs. Spence," Cray replied, "and Mr. Dallam doesn't know."
Dallam made no attempt to bring about this most desirable meeting. When Honora and Howard went to town to dine with the Dallams, it was always at a restaurant, a 'partie carree'. Lily Dallam thought it dull to dine at home, and they went to the theatre afterwards invariably a musical comedy.
I've just been telling her that there wasn't a woman at my tea who compared with her, and the men were crazy about her." "That's the reason I live down there," proclaimed Howard, as he finished his first glass of champagne. "Honora," demanded Mrs. Dallam, ignoring his bravado, "why don't you take a house at Quicksands? You'd love it, and you'd look simply divine in a bathing suit.
"As a matter of fact," said Brent, "I have promised faithfully to do a favor for certain friends of mine who have been clamouring to be presented to you." "I can't to-day Mr. Brent," she cried. "I really don't feel like-meeting people. I told Lily Dallam I was going home."
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