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Updated: June 4, 2025
In his slow, careful approach the latter reminded her somewhat of a big St. Bernard dog responding to the summons of a leopard. "Been up to see ?" Ashley nodded in the direction of what he took to be Guion's room. Davenant, too, nodded, but said nothing. "How did you find papa to-day?" "Pretty fair, Miss Guion; only, perhaps, a little more down on his luck than usual."
By a common impulse both Temple and Davenant kept silent concerning Guion. On leaving Tory Hill they had elected to walk homeward, the ladies taking the carriage. The radiant moonlight and the clear, crisp October air helped to restore Davenant's faculties to a normal waking condition after the nightmare of Guion's hints.
It was so glowing that, in spite of his repugnance, he could have leaned forward and wrung Guion's hand. He contrived, however, to throw a tone of objection into his voice as he said: "Wouldn't work? Why not?" Guion raised himself on his elbow. "It's no use going over the arguments as to the effect on your position. You've considered all that, no doubt, and feel that you can meet it.
It was, from the younger Guion's point of view, an agreeable practice, concerned chiefly with the care of trust funds, in which a gentleman could engage without any rough-and-tumble loss of gentility.
She swept him with a look such as he knew she must be capable of giving, though he had never before seen it. The next second she had slipped between the portières into the hail. He heard her pause there. It was inevitable that Guion's words should return to him: "Half in love with him as it is." "That's rot," he assured himself.
While it was true that to his financially gifted mind any misuse of trust funds had the special heinousness that horse-lifting has to a rancher, yet as he stood with Guion's hand on his shoulder he knew that something in the depths of his being was stirred, and stirred violently, that had rarely been affected before.
She was able to collect herself, to put on something like her habitual air of quiet dignity, before she pushed open the door and entered. Guion was lying on the couch with the rug thrown over him. Davenant stood by the fireplace, endangering with his elbow a dainty Chelsea shepherdess on the mantelpiece. He was smoking one of Guion's cigars, which he threw into an ash-tray as Olivia came in.
"We'd say you see, it wouldn't commit you to anything too pointed we'd say, simply, 'Miss Guion's marriage to Colonel Ashley will not take place on October 28th. There you'd have nothing but the statement, and they could make of it what they liked." "Which would be a good deal, wouldn't it?" "Human nature being human nature, Olivia, you can hardly expect people not to talk.
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