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Updated: May 2, 2025
At a glance the sheets appeared wholesome, but not narrow; dignified, but not dull. She wondered how much of their general tone they owed to Mr. Farraday, and determined to ask McEwan more about his friend when next she saw him. Her speculations were interrupted by Stefan, who somewhat excitedly pulled her sleeve, pointing to a colored drawing of a woman's head on the wall behind her.
As Felicity was handed by Stefan into the car, she murmured something in French, Constance noticed, to which he shook his head with a nervous frown. As the machine started, he was left staring moodily after it down the lane. "Thee is earlier than I expected," little Mrs. Farraday said to Constance, when they arrived at the house.
He enclosed it in a letter to James Farraday, in which he asked him to give it to his wife, with his love and blessing, and to tell her that he was enlisting with Adolph Jensen in the Foreign Legion. That night they both went to a vaudeville theatre. It was packed to the doors an opera star was to sing the Marseillaise. Stefan and Adolph stood at the back.
The nurse appeared at the door and looked at Stefan. "Your son is born," she said. Instantly to both men it was as if eerie bonds, drawn over-taut, had snapped, releasing them again to the physical world about them. The high mystery was over; life was human and kindly once again. Farraday dropped into his chair and held a hand across his eyes.
Mary," he called, hanging up the receiver, "Constance is sending Farraday across to advise us." "Oh, dear," said she; "sometimes I feel almost overwhelmed by all the favors we receive from our friends." "Fiddlesticks! They are paid by the pleasure of our society. You don't seem to realize that we are unusually interesting and attractive people," laughed he with a flourish. "Vain boy!"
When the guests began to leave, Mary urged the Farradays to remain a little longer. "It's only five o'clock," she reminded them. Mrs. Farraday settled herself comfortably, and drew out her khaki-colored knitting. James lit his pipe, and Stefan wheeled forward to the glow of the fire, fitting a cigarette into his new amber holder.
She sealed and stamped the letter. "I must still believe," she kept repeating to herself. There was nothing to do but wait. In the weeks that followed it seemed to Mary that her friends were more than ever kind to her. Not only did James Farraday continually send his car to take her driving, and Mrs.
Oh, I don't think that would be fair," she said. Her manner was simple, but there was finality in her tone it made him feel that wherever her child was concerned she would be adamant. The baby's godmother was, of course, Constance, and his godfathers, equally obviously, Farraday and McEwan.
Farraday loved to drive up in the morning and watch the small Elliston in his bath, comparing his feats with her memories of her own baby. She liked, too, to call at the cottage for mother and child, and take them for long rambling drives behind her ruminant pony.
He entered gaily, greeted Farraday, and fell upon the tea, consuming two cups and several slices of bread and butter with the rapid concentration he gave to all his acts. That finished, he leaped up and made for the easel. "Now, Farraday," he cried, "you are going to see one of the finest modern paintings in the world. Why should I be modest about it? I'm not. It's a masterpiece Mary's and mine!"
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