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Updated: June 4, 2025


Lorelei was surprised and delighted one day to receive an invitation for her and her husband to spend a week-end at Fennellcourt, the country home of Bert Hayman's sister. She had not been sorry to give up her theatrical work, and the prospect of meeting nice people, of leaving for good and all the sordid, unhealthy atmosphere of Broadway, bathed her in a glow of anticipation.

"Better have a drink," Pope suggested; but Bob returned roughly: "That's what broke up the sketch. I got stewed at Fennellcourt high-hat week-end party fast crowd, and the usual trimmings. Never again! That is, if I find my wife." "Fennellcourt! Suppose you tell me all about it.

The Whartons' new home was charming, and Bob provided his wife with every luxury. Lorelei did not regret that she was prevented from going out as much as formerly her experience at Fennellcourt had cured her of any desire to get into her husband's social set and unconsciously she and Bob began to develop a real home life.

Fennellcourt is one of the show-places of the Wheatley Hills section. The house itself is a pretentious structure of brick and terra-cotta, crowning a hill.

After a while Lorelei ventured: "I'm still a little nervous. I wish you'd stay close to me this evening." "Can't be done," Bob declared. "It's a rule at Fennellcourt that husbands must ignore their wives. Betty doesn't invite many married couples, and a wife-lover is considered a pest. When in Rome do as the tourists do." Lorelei finished dressing in silence.

As Hayman's car rolled up the driveway and the beauties of Fennellcourt displayed themselves Lorelei found her heart throbbing violently. Was not this the beginning of a glorious adventure? Was not life unfolding at last? Was she not upon the threshold of a new world? The flutter in her breast was answer.

If there's a chance that it's suicide " Pope's reportorial instinct brought the last word into juxtaposition with "Fennellcourt," and he saw black head-lines. "Judge for yourself. Maybe you can help me; nobody else can."

Bert Hayman drove the Whartons out from the city, and Lorelei's first glimpse of Fennellcourt was such that she forgot her vague dislike of Hayman himself. Bert, who had met her and Bob for luncheon, had turned out to be, instead of a polished man of the world, a glib youth with an artificial laugh and a pair of sober, heavy-lidded eyes.

She had a wild desire to make her excuses and escape from Fennellcourt, but Bob had disappeared, and she gathered that he and Bert were playing off some fabulous wager in the billiard-room. Pleading a headache, she excused herself as soon as she could. "So sorry," said Mrs. Fennell; then, with a knowing laugh: "There's no likelihood of Bob's annoying you for some time. Bertie will see to that."

The hostess continued to demur feebly, but Lorelei cut short any further discussion, and, once behind her own locked door, she dressed with feverish haste. Her only desire now was to escape from Fennellcourt and all its guests as quickly as possible. Her thoughts concerning Bob at the moment were too much involved in anger at the Fennells and at Hayman to be quite coherent.

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