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Dresham, whom he disliked, had organized the reading in the hope of making him betray himself for he was already sure that Dresham had divined his share in the transaction. The attempt to keep a smooth surface on this inner tumult was as endless and unavailing as efforts made in a nightmare.
Dresham was repaid by the fact that there were people who took HER for a remarkable woman; and who in turn probably purchased similar distinction with the small change of her reflected importance. As to the other ladies of the party, they were simply the wives of some of the men the kind of women who expect to be talked to collectively and to have their questions left unanswered. Mrs.
"I haven't been in town long enough to know anything," said Glennard, taking the cup his wife handed him. "Who has been reading what?" "That lovely girl from the South Georgie Georgie what's her name Mrs. Dresham's protegee unless she's YOURS, Mr. Dresham! Why, the big ball-room was PACKED, and all the women were crying like idiots it was the most harrowing thing I ever heard "
Glennard?" he heard her ask; and, in reply to Alexa's vague interrogation "Why, the 'Aubyn Letters' it's the only book people are talking of this week." Mrs. Dresham immediately saw her advantage. "You HAVEN'T read them? How very extraordinary! As Mrs. Armiger says, the book's in the air; one breathes it in like the influenza." Glennard sat motionless, watching his wife.
The girl read them so beautifully that it was quite horrible I should have fainted if there'd been a man near enough to carry me out." Hartly's glee redoubled, and Dresham said, jovially, "How like you women to raise a shriek over the book and then do all you can to encourage the blatant publicity of the readings!" Mrs. Armiger met him more than half-way on a torrent of self-accusal.
Dresham was a lady who had rescued herself from social obscurity by assuming the role of her husband's exponent and interpreter; and Dresham's leisure being devoted to the cultivation of remarkable women, his wife's attitude committed her to the public celebration of their remarkableness. For the conceivable tedium of this duty, Mrs.
The third lady of the trio which Glennard's fancy had put to such unflattering uses, was bound by circumstances to support the claims of the other two. This was Mrs. Dresham, the wife of the editor of the Radiator. Mrs.
What had he done, after all, to need defence and explanation? Both Dresham and Flamel had, in his hearing, declared the publication of the letters to be not only justifiable but obligatory; and if the disinterestedness of Flamel's verdict might be questioned, Dresham's at least represented the impartial view of the man of letters.
Reading poor Margaret Aubyn's love-letters at the Waldorf before five hundred people for a charity! WHAT charity, dear Mrs. Armiger?" "Why, the Home for Friendless Women " "It was well chosen," Dresham commented; and Hartly buried his mirth in the sofa-cushions. When they were alone Glennard, still holding his untouched cup of tea, turned to his wife, who sat silently behind the kettle.
Armiger added, with the appearance of carrying the argument a point farther, "But even if HE'S dead and SHE'S dead, somebody must have given the letters to the publishers." "A little bird, probably," said Dresham, smiling indulgently on her deduction. "A little bird of prey then a vulture, I should say " another man interpolated. "Oh, I'm not with you there," said Dresham, easily.
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