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Updated: June 8, 2025
The more she repulsed him the more worthy he thought her. "I must see her again, somewhere," he decided. "Millions," whispered Virgilia to Preciosa, behind Robin Morrell's broad back. "Quite one of us. And you can see for yourself how immensely he is taken with you." Yes, here was something more glorious even than the Thursday tea. On the way home Preciosa was quiet and thoughtful.
Morrell's eyes narrowed, and he motioned quietly to the waiting black to replenish the glasses. "With all my heart, damn her!" said he. "I agree with you; she's a snippy, cold little piece. Not my style at all. Not worth the serious attention of a man like yourself. Who is it now, you sly dog?" Sansome sipped at his drink; sighed sentimentally.
But Morrell's method was so patently the reverse of my method of self- hypnosis that I was fascinated. By my method, my consciousness went first of all. By his method, consciousness persisted last of all, and, when the body was quite gone, passed into stages so sublimated that it left the body, left the prison of San Quentin, and journeyed afar, and was still consciousness.
Morrell's knowledge of this hate was accurate, though his analysis of its cause was faulty. He thought his wife to be Keith's discarded mistress, and did not greatly care. Nor did he mention the possibility which, however, Mrs. Morrell now voiced. "Suppose Keith follows them out to Jake's?" she suggested. "One of them will kill, and the Stranglers will hang the other," he said briefly.
His amours had always been of the safe rather than the wildly adventurous sort. Sansome had no morals; but being found out produced effects so closely resembling those of conscience that they could not be distinguished. In the chaotic collapse of this heroic episode he managed to cling to but one thing. That was Morrell's often reiterated warning: "Don't let Keith get his hands on you!"
It was characteristic that for the time being he fell completely under Mrs. Morrell's fascination. They were together fully half the time, appearing on the floor only occasionally, then disappearing in one or the other of the many nooks. Mrs. Morrell "bolted" her dances shamelessly. Keith thought her awfully amusing and ingenious in the way she managed this.
She was endowed with a new glamour because of Mrs. Morrell's enigmatic remark the evening before, and also for Keith was very human with a new attraction. Feeling vaguely and boyishly devilish, Keith. stopped. She nodded at him, laying her work aside. "You are practically invisible." she told him. "Making ourselves a habitation. Seen Mrs. Keith?" "No. I don't think she's come in."
"Like her!" she flashed back, her anger leaping to unreasonable proportions "that old frump!" No sooner had the door closed after them than Morrell's conventional smile faded, and his countenance fell into its usual hard, cold impassivity. "Well, what is the game there?" he demanded. "There is no game," she replied indifferently. "There is very little money there, I warn you," he persisted.
Sansome was mixed up with the Keiths perhaps he could be used On impulse Morrell hailed him genially, and invited him to take a drink. The exquisite brightened, and perceptibly hastened his step. Morrell's rather ultra-Anglicism always fascinated him. They turned in at the El Dorado, and there seated themselves at the most remote of the small tables.
A little more sentiment, perhaps, appeared in her designs a wider conception; but that was natural, for happiness had come to her and a delicious sense of success. She, womanlike, began to rejoice in her power. She heard of John Morrell's marriage to a young western girl, about this time, with genuine delight. Her sky was clearing of all regrets.
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