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Updated: June 2, 2025
He had been impenetrable to her questions, but not to her sharpness, and he was hurt by the disapproval she had shown. It was the first time he had heard the curious icy tone in her voice; it had struck a jarring note in their friendship. For the time being, Miss Gannion had distrusted him; but at least she had gained no idea of the cause of his changed attitude. For so much, he was thankful.
No; don't get up from the piano. You owe me a sonata, at least, to pay for the stunning headlines I gave you, yesterday." "Was that your work, Bobby?" Sally asked, while she shook hands with Arlt. "I thought it must have come from the bake-shop where they do all the other pi. Did you see it, Miss Gannion? It reminded me of A was an Apple Pie: Arlt's Art Analyzed.
"But he sometimes takes a little more wine than is altogether wise," Thayer replied, with brief directness. Miss Gannion dropped back in her chair. "Does does he get drunk?" she questioned sharply. "No. That is too strong a word. He is imprudent, foolish. Still, one never knows what may come." "Poor Beatrix!" Miss Gannion said softly. Thayer faced her again.
Margaret Gannion straightened up and spoke with a sudden assumption of dignity which seemed to add inches to her moral and physical stature. "To what are you referring, Mr. Thayer?" "I beg your pardon. I thought you knew. I am talking about Lorimer." "What about him?" Man as he was, Thayer flinched under her keen eyes.
Now, as he bowed in acknowledgment of the introduction, he was conscious that in Margaret Gannion he was meeting a woman who would bear either test. She seemed to him one of the most strongly individual women he had ever met; yet at the same time he had a comfortable sense of an infinite number of points of mental contact.
"Understand me, Miss Gannion; I am not doing this for love of gossip. Miss Dane is nothing to me, and I like Lorimer immensely. But there is a good deal at stake, and I am not sure how much I ought to leave to chance. Lorimer is one of the most lovable fellows in the world, generous and loyal; but he is weak. He was born so; I fancy it is in the blood.
"As if I owed a great deal to you." The girlish pink flush rose in Miss Gannion's cheeks. "Thank you, dear boy. But really I have done nothing." Arlt turned his back to the piano and, clasping his hands over his knees, spoke with simple gravity. "Miss Gannion, here in America, I have had three good friends, Mr. Thayer, you, and Miss Van Osdel. Everybody knows what Mr.
When Thayer comes, Tuesday night, are you willing to talk the whole matter over with him and see what he thinks about it now? There would be a certain consolation to me in knowing that he disapproved the affair, and he may possibly suggest some way of breaking it off." "Possibly," Miss Gannion assented; "unless it is already too late."
I knew the temptation was less here, and I hoped he was so taken up with Miss Dane that he wouldn't have time to get into the wrong set. The night of the Lloyd Avalons's recital, he was not quite himself, and I advised him to go to Washington while the matter blew over." "Strange I didn't hear of it," Miss Gannion said thoughtfully.
"What about Saturday, then?" she asked. "I shall be at home, that night." "Please ask me, Miss Gannion," Bobby entreated. Miss Gannion shook her head. "No; you are too much in evidence, Bobby. You would distract my mind from Mr. Arlt, and this is his party, you know. Even Mr. Thayer is subordinate. But, Beatrix child, where is Mr. Lorimer? I thought surely I should find him here, to-day.
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