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Updated: May 17, 2025
Franklyn-Haldene left her carriage at the door, perfectly willing that the neighborhood should see her alight. She climbed the steps, stately and imposing. She was one of the few women who could overawe the homely girl in the hallway. "Is Madame at liberty?" "She will be shortly, Mrs. Haldene." Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene passed into the reception-room and sat down by the manicure table.
Franklyn-Haldene, who is visiting in Washington, will return next week. May 13 Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene has returned home from a delightful visit in Washington. Sometimes, when there was no escape from it, Mr. Franklyn-Haldene's name also appeared. From mundane things to the spiritual! "Yes, I feel for Mrs. Bennington," continued Mrs. Haldene.
"You must apologize," he said. "Apologize? I think not. On my part there is nothing more to be said." "I see that I shall have to apologize for you. Patty, I am very sorry that this has happened, and I can promise you that it shall end here. Will you accept my apology?" After some hesitance, Patty nodded. She could not very well refuse. She had always liked Mr. Haldene.
Franklyn-Haldene was one of those fortunate persons who always have their names in the society columns of the Sunday newspapers. Either she was among those present, or she gave a luncheon, or she assisted at a reception, or was going out of town, or coming back. Those who ran their husbands in debt to get into society always looked to see what Mrs. Haldene had been doing the past week.
Haldene the most gratifying phrase in the language was: "I told you so!" Warrington had disappointed her, too. He behaved himself. He did not run after young Mrs. Bennington; he never called there alone; he was seen more frequently at the old Bennington place. The truth is, Patty was busy reforming the wayward dramatist, and Warrington was busy watching the result.
"Why couldn't you leave her alone? You're all a pack of buzzards, waiting for some heart to peck at. Church! bah!" It was only on rare occasions that Mr. Franklyn-Haldene voiced his sentiments. On these occasions Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene rarely spoke. There was a man in her husband she had no desire to rouse. Mr. Haldene was the exception referred to; he was not afraid of his wife.
The society reporters, very often smug young women of aristocratic but impoverished families, called her up by telephone every day in the week. Mrs. Haldene pretended to demur, but the reporters found her an inexhaustible mine of tittle-tattle. Sometimes they omitted some news which she considered important; and, as the saying goes, the hair flew.
Not a particle of her courage deserted her as she mounted the steps and pushed the bell. When Patty was genuinely roused in anger she was afraid of little or nothing, animate or inanimate. A maid answered the bell. As she recognized the caller she swung back the door and nodded. "Is Mrs. Haldene at home?" Patty inquired. "Yes, Miss Patty." The maid led Patty into the library, where Mrs.
They rode homeward in silence. As they passed the Warrington place, Mr. Haldene again spoke. "Warrington is home over Sunday. Saw him on horseback this morning." "There's one thing I'm thankful for: the wedding will not be in Herculaneum." "Humph!" "It's disgusting; and we shall have to receive her. But I do not envy her her lot." "Neither do I," said Haldene.
She had forgotten that there might be some one else in the house. Haldene entered through the door to the dining-room. His face was hard and his eyes cold. "I must ask your pardon, both of you, but I could not help overhearing your voices. They ran somewhat high." He bowed to Patty deferentially; he merely glanced at his wife. "Franklyn!"
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