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Updated: June 25, 2025
"Vulgarity is surely preferable to popularity. The theatre is merely popular." While Harding was thus exerting himself with epigram, Fletcher stood tall and slender, with a grey overcoat hanging over his arm, and his intense eyes fixed on Lady Seveley. His gaze troubled her, and when he withdrew his eyes she looked at him, anticipant and fearing.
Fletcher asked Escott, in a hesitating and conciliatory manner. "I am afraid he will not be able to tell you; he hasn't ceased talking since we came into the theatre." "I should have done the same had I been in his place." Lady Seveley smiled, Frank thought the words presumptuous. "Who the devil would care to hear you talk and that filthy accent." And at that moment he remembered Lizzie Baker.
I know Mount Rorke," said Lady Seveley, "and you do, too, Mr. Fletcher." "Yes, a little." Unfearing prophecy and oracle launched from the windows of the hotel, the young people rowed, lost to all but each other, amazed at the loveliness of the river. They floated amid the bulrushes. Cries and regret when Frank's oar crushed the desired blossom.
Regent Street was full of young men as elegant as himself driving to various pleasures, and Frank wondered what sort of dinners they would eat, what kind of women they would sit by. Then as he drove through Mayfair he thought of his own party. He wondered what the girls would think of him. Lady Seveley lived in Green Street.
Fletcher and Harding were now speaking to Lady Seveley, and taking advantage of the circumstance he slipped out, and, lighting a cigarette, entered the bar room. Behind the counter the young ladies stood in single file, and through odours of cigarettes and whisky their voices called "One coffee in order," and the cry was passed on till it reached the still-room.
Lady Seveley was a shadow; and when the shadow defined itself he saw the slight wrinkling of the skin about the eyes, the almost imperceptible looseness of the flesh about the chin; but, worse to him than these physical changes, were the hard measured phrases in which there is knowledge of the savour and worth of life.
He spoke to her until Frank, feeling that he was receding out of all interest and attention, said abruptly, "If you will come now, Lady Seveley, I think I shall be able to get you your carriage. May I see you home?" he said, holding the door. "No thank you, I will not take you out of your way. Go home at once and get rested, and come and see me one of these days; don't forget."
There is a lady here whom I knew in London, Lady Seveley; and I have had suspicions that Mount Rorke would like me to marry her. But she has the reputation of being rather fast, so perhaps the old gentleman is allowing his thoughts to wander where they should not. I hope not for his sake, for I hear she is devoted to a young Irishman, a Mr. Fletcher, a journalist in London.
Lord Seveley admired me; it was a very good match, I was anxious to get away from home, so I married him. You are quite wrong in supposing I treated him badly." "Forgive me, don't say any more about that." "We had rows, it is true; he said horrible things about my mother, and I wouldn't stand that, of course." "What things?" "Oh, I can't tell you no matter.
"He has the most lovely hands and teeth." "I see; perhaps you are in love with him?" A knock came at the door; the young men entered. Lady Seveley introduced them to Frank; he bowed coldly, and addressed Harding. But Lady Seveley said: "O Mr. Harding, I want to speak to you about your last novel; I have just finished reading it." "What do you think of this piece?"
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