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Updated: July 25, 2025
Daniel Randon was both tall and fat, a slow impressive bulk in white linen with a smooth impassive face and considering brown eyes. "This," he said unremarkably, "is a surprise. But I am, of course, glad; particularly since Venalez reported that Fanny was with you." "She isn't," Lee replied tersely; there had been no cable from Eastlake, he saw, and he must plunge boldly into what he had to say.
More than that, his mind, his hopes and planning, were constantly directed toward his legal concerns; the wife of such a man filled about the position of his golf or billiards. Lee Randon had never analyzed this before, and the result amazed him. With younger men, of course, it was different; they had more time and interest for their homes, their wives and children.
He had an overwhelming impulse to explain himself in the most searching unsparing detail to Fanny, the strange conviction that in doing it he would anticipate, perhaps escape, grave trouble. Lee Randon realized, however, that he would have to begin with the doll, Cytherea; and the difficulty, the preposterousness, of trying to make that clear to his wife, discouraged and kept him silent.
When I tried to compose a telegram from Havana, telling you something of the situation, I couldn't all the idiotic tourists hanging about! Well, here we are, or here I am, and Savina is upstairs, most anxious to meet you." "Certainly," Daniel Randon agreed. He was silent for a moment in the consideration of what he had been told. Then, "I can't have you on the batey," he pronounced.
The benches at either side of the fire-place were invariably crowded; and, from her place on the over-mantel, Cytherea's gaze rested on the vivacious or subdued current of life. Lee Randon often gazed up at her, and tonight, sunk in a corner with scarcely room to move the hand which held a cigarette, this lifted interrogation was prolonged. Mrs.
What a beautiful body, so unexpectedly full, she had; how astounding, intoxicating, was the difference between what she seemed to be and what she was. Lee Randon thought with amused pity of the files of men who must have passed by her, with the most considerate bows, in ignorance of the inner truth.
Lee Randon lost his impression of the triviality of the occasion: they all seemed desperately searching for that something he had lost and which was overwhelmingly important to him; and all the while the music stuttered and mocked and confused a tragic need.
Fanny was tired but enthusiastic, and, as she went deftly about, rearranging her house with an unfailing surety of touch, she hummed fragments of the evening's songs. Lee Randon was weary without any qualification; the past day, tomorrow but it was already today offered him no more than a burden, so many heavy hours, to be supported.
"I am sorry to tell you that she is at home. But I'm here, and not by myself." A slight expression of annoyance twitched at his brother's contained mouth. "No, you are making a mistake. I have left Fanny, Daniel. I thought perhaps you would have heard." "Our telegraph system is undependable," was all that the other, the younger, Randon answered. "You don't know, then. A Mrs.
He made his way through life blinded to the customary and unaware of the strange; summer was hot and winter, usually, cold; the spring became green under rain; winds blew and the leaves fell in fall of how much more was he conscious? It was the same with regard to people; he, Lee Randon, knew a great many, or rather, he could repeat their names, recognize their superficial features at sight.
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