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Updated: June 22, 2025
I'm going to the city and I'll take you right to your office." Henrietta had met Mrs. Fenlow a number of times during the long-drawn-out time when the architect was endeavoring to meet her wishes with a design for the country house she had determined to build up the Hudson.
It's all in the proportions, and I think, for the first time in my life, I have got them just right." As she recalled the conversation an automobile whizzed past her, slowed down and returned, and she saw Mrs. Fenlow leaning out and calling to her: "I thought it was you, Miss Marne! Waiting for a trolley, aren't you? Well, don't wait, jump in with me.
"That man has the luck of the Irish army!" declared Mrs. Fenlow. "Did you notice that he was the only one to escape without any injury, though the cause of it was evidently his reckless driving? That's the way things always happen with him. He gets his pleasure and other people take the consequences." Mrs. Fenlow's tone was so sharp and bitter that Henrietta looked at her in surprise.
She had found the elder woman's open speech and breezy manners amusing, but she had also conceived liking and respect for the sincerity and warm-heartedness that were evident underneath a rather brusque and erratic exterior. She had been pleased and touched also by the hearty affection and comradeship between Mrs. Fenlow and her only son, Mark Fenlow, her eldest child.
Fenlow?" queried Henrietta, wide-eyed. Mrs. Fenlow had been speaking straight ahead of her, into the air, as if, absorbed in her own bitter thoughts, she had for the moment forgotten her companion. At the girl's question she turned with a quick movement suggestive of the swoop of a bird of prey. "Pardon me, my dear, if I use disrespectful language about your employer.
"Aren't you afraid, mother," exclaimed Mark Fenlow, from his seat beside Henrietta, "if you don't decide pretty soon whether you want that dormer window in the cellar or the roof and whether the back porch is to be before or behind the house, that Mr. Brand will be driven to try a new personality, or incarnation, or or drink, or whatever you call it!"
Henrietta asked with a quick look of surprise that was reminiscent, too, of the shock the incident had given her. "I thought she mentioned your name. Was that what made him so angry?" "That was what caused his final brutality. The trouble was about Mark Fenlow. You know how fond and proud of him his mother has been and what high expectations she has always had for him.
But I warn you, Miss Marne, that it will be wise for you not to mention my name to him when he does return. He hates me so furiously and he has so little control over that violent temper he has developed, that there is no telling what he will say or do if any one so much as speaks of me in his presence. You remember his outrageous conduct to Mrs. Fenlow?" "Oh, did Mrs. Fenlow tell you about that?"
There were private commissions in plenty, enough to keep him and his assistants busy. And, finally, and Brand laughingly told his secretary that he considered this the most signal success of his career Mrs. Fenlow had approved his last design for the country house she purposed to build up the Hudson and had been moved to transports of enthusiasm over its every detail.
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