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Updated: May 31, 2025
You can afford to be magnanimous to a rival, now that you're Terry's husband." Tabs stood with his hand held out. Braithwaite made no motion to accept it; and yet his expression was generous. "I can't shake your hand as Terry's husband, Lord Taborley. I'm not married to her." Lady Dawn sprang to her feet and came between the two tall men. "Not married to her! But you intend to marry her?
Could you manage to want me just a little, Lord Taborley? Not for long, you know; only till I've got past the loneliest places till I've begun almost to persuade myself that he may come back. To think that you wanted me would help." Before he could answer, she had sprung to her feet, all but over-turning the lamp. "What's that?" A sharp rat-a-tat-tat had reverberated through the house.
She had been leaning forward, her arm supported on her knee, her chin cushioned in her hand, the white light from the mist-covered meadows falling softly on her through the tall window, revealing the pulse beating in her throat and the trembling of her thin sweet mouth. "What was it that he wanted you to do for me, Lord Taborley?"
But his mind was stunned with apprehension at the discovery that her passion for this man meant so much that his hate would be a lighter burden than his love. Maisie turned to Tabs with veiled disdain. "I suppose it was you who told her this, Lord Taborley?" He paid her scant attention and continued looking at Terry. "On the contrary." He spoke with unruffled urbanity.
Good-night. Merry dreams to you, Lord Taborley." With the suddenness of a phantom she went from him. There were a brief few seconds while he heard the ripple of her laughter and the rustling of her dress. Then the door closed. Save for the lamps of the waiting taxi night was again eventless and dark. That evening was the first of many such adventures.
General Braithwaite, I want to introduce you to Lord Taborley, of whom I've spoken to you so often." Tabs limped back to the pavement and found the General regarding him intently. "I'm glad to make Lord Taborley's acquaintance," he said formally. And then to Terry, "You didn't tell me that it was for Lord Taborley you were borrowing my car."
Perhaps it was due to her light-hearted health and girlish freshness. As he came up eagerly, limping with the effort, she reached out her hand. "Tabs, fancy you not knowing me! I don't need to call you Lord Taborley, do I? Between us it's still Tabs." "Terry dear! My dear Terry, at last!" He spoke queerly as though he had been running.
She hadn't always been a great lady; to the end of her days there had remained with her the love of small things which one finds in nun-like New England towns. There had been times when the ostentation and entertaining at Taborley House had become too much for her; this nest of refuge had been her secret her place of retreat where she had regarnered her sincerities.
There was a confused gabbling and buzzing of voices, out of which the suave tones of the intruder emerged triumphant, saying, "This is Sir Tobias Beddow. Can I speak with Lord Taborley?" Perhaps Maisie had heard. At all events, the moment Sir Tobias declared himself the line cleared.
"Lord Taborley, etc." The policeman lifted his slow eyes to judge for himself whether the Lord part of his information looked probable. The lean aristocratic face which he encountered seemed to correspond with the specifications recorded. He asked to see his Lordship's license. Tabs embarked on explanations, pointing to the bandaged wrist of Prentys as a confirmation of his facts.
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