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Updated: May 6, 2025
It took him some time to recover, and during the entire time she sat in her gray shawl, looking very amiable, but plainly unable to think of anything to say. "I saw your son in Farron's office to-day." "Mr. Farron has been so kind, so wonderfully kind!" Only a guilty conscience could have found reproach in this statement, and Lanley said: "And I hear he is dining at my daughter's this evening."
"Go on with your story." Wayne went on, but not as rapidly as he had expected. Farron kept him a long time on the interview of the afternoon before, and particularly on Mrs. Farron's part, just the point Wayne did not want to discuss for fear of betraying the bitterness he felt toward her.
"I guess you'll get it about right," he said, and no compliment had ever pleased Adelaide half so much. "I think so," she confidently answered, and then at the door she turned. "Oh, Mrs. Baxter," she said, "this is Marty Burke, a very important person." Importance, especially Adelaide Farron's idea of importance, was a category for which Mrs.
The motor stopped at the door, and they went in silence to Mrs. Farron's room, where for a bitter hour they talked, neither yielding an inch. At last Adelaide sent the girl to bed. Mathilde was aware of profound physical exhaustion, and yet underneath there was a high knowledge of something unbreakable within her. Left alone, Adelaide turned instinctively toward her husband's door.
And please don't include because you love her so much, for almost any one would do that." Pete fought down his panic, reminding himself that no man living could hear such words without terror. His egotism, never colossal, stood feebly between him and Mrs. Farron's estimate of him. He seemed to sink back into the general human species.
In her hat and veil, lit by the friendly light of her own drawing-room, she seemed so young as to be actually girlish, except that she was too stately and finished for such a word. Mathilde did not inherit her blondness from her mother. Mrs. Farron's hair was a dark brown, with a shade of red in it where it curved behind her ears.
I want to tell you about it. Mama, how lovely you look in that blue thing! Won't you come up-stairs with me while I undress?" Adelaide shook her head. "Not to-night," she answered. "You are angry with me," the girl went on. "But if you will come, I will explain. I have something to tell you, Mama." Mrs. Farron's heart stood still. The phrase could mean only one thing.
Farron's illness, and she is always there, so brave, so attentive. A queenly woman, and," he added, as if the two did not always go together, "a good wife." Wayne could think of no answer to this eulogy, and as they stood in silence the office door opened and Mr. Lanley came in. He nodded to each of the two, and moved to Vincent's room. "Mr. Farron has just gone," said Chandler, firmly.
"May I take the tray, miss?" he said. She nodded, hardly glancing at the untouched tea-table. Pringle, as he bent over it, observed that it was nice to have Mr. Farron back. Mathilde remembered that she, too, had once been interested in her stepfather's return. "Where's my mother, Pringle?" "Mrs. Farron's in her room, I think, miss, and Mr. Lanley's with her."
Appreciating that some sort of doubt was disturbing him, Adelaide said most graciously: "Yes, you really must come, Mr. Wayne." At this moment Farron's own stenographer, Chandler, approached him with an unsigned letter in his hand. Chandler took the routine of the office more seriously than Farron did, and acquired thereby a certain power over his employer.
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