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Updated: May 10, 2025
She was the kind who would have gone ragged with a poet or lived content in a sod hut with a Man. And she had married this Larry Pole, who according to Conny looked seedy and was often rather "boozy." How could she have made such a mistake, Margaret of all women? That Englishman Hollenby, who really was somebody, had been much interested in her. Why hadn't she married him?
And in the silence that followed they were both thinking of those days in Washington, eight years before, when they had met. He was acting as secretary to some great man then, and was flashing in the pleasant light of youth, popularity, social approbation. He had "won out" against the Englishman, Hollenby, why, he had never exactly known.
Margaret's thin, long lips curved ironically for answer. Hollenby, who seemed to have recollected a purpose, was waiting for her at the library door.... "Ah, my Eros!" Isabella exclaimed with delight, holding forth two hands to a small, dark young woman, with waving brown hair and large eyes that were fixed on distant objects.
Margaret was thinking of that why, as a woman does think at times for long years afterwards, trying to solve the psychological puzzle of her foolish youth! Hollenby was certainly the abler man, as well as the more brilliant prospect.
And there was Elsie Beals, quite elegant, the only daughter of the President of the A. and P. The Woodyards, Percy and Lancey, classmates of Vickers at the university, both slim young men, wearing their clothes carelessly, clearly not of the Hollenby manner, had attached themselves here. Behind them was Nan Lawton, too boisterous even for the open air.
Even when Nannie Lawton came loudly with Hollenby she had captured him from her cousin and threw her arms about the bride, Isabelle did not draw back. She forgot that she disliked the gay little woman, with her muddy eyes, whose "affairs" one after the other were condoned "for her husband's sake."
The newcomer raised his silk hat, sweeping Vickers, who was fanning himself with his broad-brimmed felt, in a light, critical stare. Then Mr. Hollenby at once appropriated the young woman's attention, as though he would indicate that it was for her sake he had taken this long, hot journey.
As the bride left the tent to get ready for departure, she caught sight of Margaret Lawton in a corner of the veranda with Hollenby, who was bending towards her, his eyes fastened on her face. Margaret was looking far away, across the fields to where Dog Mountain rose in the summer haze.
I asked her to visit us, but she has another one coming, the third!" Isabelle made a little grimace. "And Margaret?" "She has suddenly gone abroad with her husband to Munich. He's given up his business. Didn't her marriage surprise you?" "Yes, I thought she was going to marry that Englishman who was at your wedding." "Mr. Hollenby? Yes, every one did. Something happened.
He took his place beside the girl, whose color deepened and eyes turned away, perhaps annoyed, or pleased? "That's what you come for, isn't it?" she said, forcing a little joke. Noticing that the two men did not speak, she added hastily, "Don't you know Mr. Price, Mr. Vickers Price? Mr. Hollenby."
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