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Updated: May 20, 2025
Kame expressed a desire to walk about a little, a proposal received with disfavour by all but Honora, who as hostess responded. "I feel perfectly delightful," declared Mrs. Rindge. "What's the use of moving about?" And she sank back in the cushions of her chair. This observation was greeted with unrestrained merriment by Mr. Pembroke and Hugh. Honora, sick at heart, led Mrs.
"Have you forgotten already," she asked, smilingly, as she poured out her coffee, "that we are going to town together?" He readjusted his newspaper against the carafe. "How much do you think Mrs. Farnham or Mrs. Rindge is worth?" he asked. "I'm sure I don't know," she replied. "Old Marshall left her five million dollars." "What has that to do with it?" inquired Honora.
I'll get it straight after a while, she isn't his wife any more, you know; she married Eustace Rindge last month. That's the reason it's for rent. Dicky says he'll never get married again you bet! They planned it together, laid the corner-stone and all that sort of thing, and before it was finished she had a divorce and had gone abroad with Rindge.
At last she turned and reluctantly retraced her steps, as one whose hour of reprieve has expired. If Mrs. Rindge had a girlish air when fully arrayed for the day, she looked younger and more angular still in that article of attire known as a dressing gown.
They say Dicky was half dead with fright, and wanted to put in anywhere. Chiltern sent him below and kept right on. He has a devil in him, I believe. By the way, that's Dicky Farnham's ex-wife he's talking to Adele. She keeps her good looks, doesn't she? What's happened to Rindge?" "Left him on the other side, I hear," said Carrington. "Perhaps she'll take Chiltern next.
Pembroke retorted. At this somewhat pointed reference to his ancient habits, Chiltern laughed. "You've each had three to-day yourselves," said Mrs. Rindge, in whose bosom Mr. Pembroke's remark evidently rankled, "without counting those you had before you left the club." Afterwards Mrs.
"My dear, you did well to go to bed." "And to cap it all," cried Mrs. Rindge, "Georgie fell over backwards in one of those beautiful Adam chairs, and there's literally nothing left of it. If an ocean steamer had hit it, or a freight tram, it couldn't have been more thoroughly demolished." "You pushed me," declared Mr. Pembroke. "Did I, Hugh? I barely touched him."
To cite an example, Mr. Pembroke was continually being addressed as the Third Vice-president, an allusion that Mrs. Rindge eventually explained. "You ought to have been with us coming up on the train," she cried to Honora; "I thought surely we'd be put off. We were playing bridge in the little room at the end of the car when the conductor came for our tickets.
She did not remark the young lawyer's smile, which revealed a greater knowledge of the world than one would have suspected. He said nothing, however. "Three years!" she repeated. "Why, it can't be, Mr. Wentworth. There are the Waterfords she was Mrs. Boutwell, you remember. And and Mrs. Rindge it was scarcely a year before "
"I I think I'll go back to the house," said Honora to Pembroke. "It's rather hot here in the sun." "I'm not very keen about sunshine, either," he declared. At lunch she was unable to talk; to sustain, at least, a conversation. That word oblivion, which Mrs. Rindge had so aptly applied to the horse, was constantly on her lips, and it would not have surprised her if she had spoken it.
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