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Updated: June 2, 2025
"I believe my world is overcrowded," Sally said, one January afternoon, two years later. "Arlt, why don't you take the hint?" Bobby asked languidly. "I am too comfortable to stir, and she evidently wishes to get rid of somebody." "Possibly she means me; but I was the last to come, so I shall outstay you both," Miss Gannion said, laughing. "At least, Sally, your hospitality does you credit."
I really can't imagine any argument that would lead Lorimer to give up Miss Dane of his own accord." "Couldn't you put it to him strongly that he has no moral right to hold her to her promise?" "I could; but he would probably put it to me just as strongly that I have no moral right to interfere in his concerns." Miss Gannion sat up straight, bracing her elbows against the sides of her chair. "Mr.
I used to think you were the elect of the earth. Now I doubt it." "Have some more tea, Bobby," Miss Gannion suggested. Bobby waved her aside. "Am I a child, to be diverted with soothing drinks? Never! I must have my cry out, Miss Gannion. You and Sally can be talking about the last fashion in peignoirs, if you wish.
Thayer appreciated to the full the gracious kindliness of the plan, and he had excused himself to Miss Gannion and hurried away in search of Arlt, devoutly praying, as he went, that the note of regret might not be already on its way. He was but just in time. The sealed note lay on the table, and Arlt was shrugging himself into his overcoat, when Thayer entered the room.
Arlt's purpose was single. Thayer's was two-fold, and as yet he could not determine which of them would prove to be the dominant impulse of his life. "Really, it does seem very good to drop back into the old ways," Miss Gannion said contentedly, two hours later.
Besides, Miss Gannion," he rose from the piano and came forward to her side; "we can't give out, all the time. We must stop occasionally to take something in, else our mental fuel runs low. I wonder if you realize that this is the one place in New York City where I can be entirely off my guard, entirely at home. A place like this means a good deal to an isolated man."
"And the problem," Sally added; "is Beatrix." "What about Beatrix?" Miss Gannion asked. "She is going to marry Sidney Lorimer, and she mustn't. Please tell us how we are going to prevent it." Miss Gannion sat still for a moment, with her clear eyes fixed on the glowing embers. "Are you sure that it would be best to prevent it?" she asked then.
There was a curt brevity in his manner which was new to Miss Gannion. In spite of herself, it set her to wondering whether prosperity had been good for her friend, whether the consciousness of his own importance were making him indifferent to the interests of others. Perhaps, after all, it was true that he was becoming impersonal.
Miss Gannion had told Thayer what he already half suspected, that Beatrix was really giving this supper in Arlt's honor and that it was to be the first large affair of the season, in the hope of focussing public attention upon the boy at the very moment of his having proved his real genius as composer.
"It has all been a horrible mistake," she said slowly. "I thought I was stronger. I did believe that I could hold him, Miss Gannion. I didn't rush into it carelessly, as most girls do. I knew all the danger. I thought about it, and measured it against my strength and against the strength of his love. I truly thought I could hold him." "I know, dear," Miss Gannion said gently. "I thought so, too."
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