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Updated: June 12, 2025
"What should we quarrel about? As a matter of fact, I really don't see very much of her nowadays." "So I imagined," replied Joan calmly. "When I stayed with you last May, either she came to the Lodge, or you went to Somervell Street, every day of the week. This time, you've not seen each other since I came." "No? I don't think" lightly "that Adrienne cares much for members of her own sex.
"She is perpetually ringing you up to go round to Somervell Street or if it's not that, then she is writing to you." Max laughed her protest aside. "Well, there's a lot to consult about, you see," he said vaguely. "So it seems. I shall be glad when it is all finished and I have you to myself again. When will the play be on?"
One day, impelled by an irresistible desire to test the truth of the newspaper reports, Diana took her way to Somervell Street, pausing opposite the house that had been Adrienne's. She found it invested with a curious air of unfamiliarity, facing the street with blank and shuttered windows, like blind eyes staring back at her unrecognisingly. So it was true!
For where there are not, in half a million square miles, enough white men to fill a room, or as many white women as a man has fingers, each individual fills a large space in the picture. Away up in Fort Somervell, three months' journey from Prince George, they speak of "town" as if it were five miles off.
This assumption had probably been founded in the first instance upon her name, and Adrienne never troubled either to confirm or contradict it. Mrs. Adams, her companion-chaperon, always made Diana especially welcome at the house in Somervell Street. "You must come again soon, my dear," she would say cordially. "Adrienne makes few friends and your visits are such a relaxation to her.
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