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Updated: June 11, 2025
It seems he has heard something I really don't know what not quite favourable to Mr. Dymes. I shall not offend you, dear? 'I don't take offence, Mrs. Strangeways, Alma answered, with a slight laugh to cover her uneasiness. 'It's so old-fashioned. The hostess uttered a thin trill of merriment. 'One is always safe with people who have humour, dear. It does make life easier, doesn't it?
This morning, however, Alma remained at home, and one of the first things she did was to write to Sibyl, asking when it would be convenient for her friend to give her half-an-hour's private talk. Then she wrote to Felix Dymes, addressing the letter to the care of his publishers.
Alma ridiculed these compositions, mocking at the sentimentalism of the words, and declaring that the airs were mere popular tinkle; but people not inferior to her in judgment liked the music, which certainly had a sweetness and pathos not easy to resist. The wonder was how such a man as Felix Dymes could give birth to such tender melody.
Thinking over what she had heard from Dymes, Alma was inclined to believe him; on the other hand, she knew it to be quite possible that he sought her with some interested motive. The wise thing, she knew, would be to disregard his reports, and hold aloof from the world in which they originated. But she had a strong desire to see Mrs. Strangeways.
The vivacity of his greeting when of a sudden he recognised Alma, contrasted markedly with Cyrus Redgrave's ill-concealed embarrassment in the like situation. Dymes had an easy conscience, and in the chat that followed he went so far as to joke about his ill-luck some four years ago. 'You didn't think much of me. But I'm going ahead, you know. You have to admit I'm going ahead.
When their conversation was over, he wished her to go with him to a restaurant for tea; but Alma insisted on catching a certain train at Baker Street, and Dymes had to be satisfied with the promise of another interview shortly. A visit was due from Mrs. Frothingham, who had not been seen at Pinner for more than six months.
It was dated from the hotel which Dymes had mentioned, and it asked Alma to call there. A simple, friendly invitation, suggestive of tea and chat. Alma did not speak of it, and for an hour or two thought she could disregard it altogether. But that evening she talked to Harvey of shopping she had to do in town, and the following afternoon she called upon Mrs. Strangeways.
Felix Dymes, Cyrus Redgrave, not to speak of certain other people no matter. For all that, she must pay grave attention to the subject of dress. Her recital would doubtless be given in the afternoon, according to custom; so that it was not a case of grande tenue; but her attire must be nothing short of perfection in its kind. Could she speak about it with Sibyl? Perhaps yet perhaps not.
'What, advertising and all? asked Alma. 'Oh, leave that to me. Advertising is a work of art. If you like just to come round to my rooms, I'll 'Haven't time today. See you at the Hall on Monday. A batch of weekly newspapers which arrived next morning, Saturday, proved to her that Dymes was sufficiently active.
Dymes was of opinion that the hiring of a hall and the fees of supplementary musicians might be defrayed out of the sale of tickets; but there remained the item of advertisement, and on this subject he had large ideas. He wanted 'to do the thing properly'; otherwise he wouldn't do it at all. But Alma was to take no thought for the cost; let it all be left to him. 'You want to succeed?
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