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"Good heavens, what are we to do if he comes here with a lot of desperadoes and begins to shoot?" cried Mrs. Odwell, genuinely alarmed. "I've read so much of these awful mountain feuds." "Don't be alarmed. Lord Bazelhurst will attend to the gentleman," said Lady Evelyn blandly. His lordship's monocle clattered down and the ice rattled sharply in his glass. "To to be sure," he agreed.
When she joined the people downstairs before dinner, there was a red spot in each cheek and a steady look in her eyes that caused the duke to neglect woefully the conversation he was carrying on with Mrs. Odwell. Dinner was delayed for nearly half an hour while four of the guests finished their "rubber." Penelope observed that the party displayed varying emotions.
Both of them glanced over at pretty Mrs. Odwell. She was looking down at her plate demurely while Reggie Van Voort talked straight into her pink ear, his eyes gleaming with the zest of invasion. "I say, Miss Drake, you won't mind talking to me a while after dinner, will you?" went on Odwell, something like relief in his voice. After dinner she was obliged to set him straight in a little matter.
We sat up and read till half past ten o'clock and then both of us thought of it at the same time. We dressed and went down to Hector's and waited for the theatres to let out. Three o'clock when we got home. You can't imagine what a queer experience it is, being all alone with one's wife." "Don't you love your wife, Mr. Odwell?" "Certainly! but there's always a crowd."
An observer, given to deductions, might have noticed that half of the diners were immoderately hilarious, the other half studiously polite. Lord Bazelhurst wore a hunted look and drank more than one or two highballs. From time to time he cast furtive glances at his wife. He laughed frequently at the wrong time and mirthlessly. "He's got something on his mind," whispered Odwell in comment.
It afterward transpired that the hunters had spent most of the afternoon in her ladyship's distant lodge playing bridge for rather high stakes. Little Miss Folsom was pitifully unresponsive to the mirth of Mr. Odwell. She could ill afford to lose six hundred dollars. Lady Bazelhurst was in a frightful mood.
They were sitting on the terrace and he had thrown away his half-smoked cigarette, an act in itself significant. She had been listening patiently, from sheer habit and indifference, to what he was saying, but at last she revolted. "Don't! You shall not say such things to me. I am not your kind, I fancy, Mr. Odwell," she said.
And you all have wives at home, too," with intense scorn. "Now, that's where you wrong us. They're not at home, you know. That's just it." "Never mind, Mr. Odwell; I'm going in." She left him and entered the house. For a minute or two he looked after her in wonder, and then, softly whistling, made his way over to where De Peyton, through some oversight, was talking to his own wife.
Corwith makes love to you and so does Odwell, and, hang it, they're both married. It's rotten mean of " "Their wives are accountable for their manners, not I. But, come; will you go to Renwood's with me?" "I'd rather talk to you in that nice little corner of the billiard-room, at home, if you " "But I don't need a brandy and soda. Oh!"
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