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Let's have a drink and take a look at the horses." The living-room was a mess of furniture and books, wineglasses, bottles, wraps, whips, and riding-boots. Lane looked it over critically, while Darnell found some tumblers and poured out wine. Then they all went to the stable and dawdled about, talking horse. The fields were green with the soft grass, already nearly a foot high.
Over the house an old grape-vine was budding in purple balls. There was a languor and sweetness to the air that instigated laziness. Although Lane wished to be off, Isabelle lingered on, and Darnell exclaimed hospitably: "You stay to dinner, of course! It is just plain dinner, Mrs. Lane," and he swept away all denial.
After that, old Darnell got into trouble with the man that run the ferry, and the ferry-man got the worst of it and died. But his friends shot old Darnell through and through filled him full of bullets, and ended him. The country gentleman who told me these things had been reared in ease and comfort, was a man of good parts, and was college bred.
"We're paying now for our liberal policy in giving homes to the anarchistic refuse of Europe," the Senator insisted. "Congress must pass legislation that will protect us from another Czolgocz." Darnell threw up his head, his lips curving disdainfully. He had emptied his champagne glass frequently, and there was a reckless light in his dark eyes. Isabelle trembled for his next remark:
Everything about you went into slow motion, and time seemed to stand still until the action was over. At that point, objective time started up again and everything returned to normal. Many of you no doubt read an Associated Press report from Chicago on February 11, 1958, which reported how movie actress Linda Darnell had used hypnosis to help her with her first stage role.
"I suppose that Freke man is awfully rich," Isabelle remarked, associating the name of the coal company with its president; "but he's so common, I can't see how you can stand him, John!" Lane turned in his saddle and looked at the elegant figure that his wife made on horseback. "He isn't half as interesting as Tom Darnell or Rob," she added.
Darnell, McGinty, Wood, Smoky Moore, and a score of others took part in these exhibitions, which included not merely feats in mastering vicious horses, but also feats of broken horses which the riders had trained to lie down at command, and upon which they could mount while at full speed.
Her clothes look as if she knew what to wear, pretty. She says there are some interesting people here when you find them out.... Who is Mr. Darnell? A lawyer." "Tom Darnell? He's one of the local counsel for the road, a Kentuckian, politician, talkative sort of fellow, very popular with all sorts. What did Mrs. Falkner have to say about Tom Darnell?"
"Pretty strong for a corporation lawyer!" Lane remarked, and the men laughed cynically. "I am no longer a corporation hireling," Darnell said in a loud voice. Isabelle noticed that Mrs. Adams's eyes glowed, as she gazed at the man. "I sent in my resignation last week." "Getting ready for the public platform?" some one suggested.
Darnell, still the striking dark-haired schoolgirl, was watching her husband, with a pitiful something in her frightened eyes that made Isabelle shrink.... It was Darnell who finally brought the conversation to a full stop. "No, Senator," he said in his emphatic voice, "it is not scum like the assassin of the President that this country should fear!"
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