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Updated: May 17, 2025
A few family portraits of lantern-jawed gentlemen in tie-wigs, and ladies with large head-dresses and small bodies, hung between the shelves lined with pleasantly-shabby books: books mostly contemporaneous with the ancestors in question, and to which the subsequent Trenors had made no perceptible additions.
The dimensions of the Brys' ball-room must rankle: you may be sure she knows 'em as well as if she'd been there last night with a yard-measure. Who said she was in town, by the way? That Farish boy? She isn't, I know; Mrs. Stepney was right; the house is dark, you see: I suppose Gus lives in the back." He had halted opposite the Trenors' corner, and Selden perforce stayed his steps also.
Lily was reluctant to leave, for the dinner was amusing, and she would have liked to lounge over a cigarette and hear a few songs; but she could not break her engagement with Judy, and shortly after ten she asked her hostess to ring for a hansom, and drove up Fifth Avenue to the Trenors'.
"The Trenors are my best friends I think we should all go a long way to see each other," she said, absorbing herself in the preparation of fresh tea. Her visitor's smile grew increasingly intimate. "Well, I wasn't thinking of Mrs. Trenor at the moment they say Gus doesn't always, you know."
Lady Cressida had evidently insisted on walking home, and the rest of the church-goers had thought it their duty to accompany her. Lily's companion looked rapidly from one to the other of the two men of the party; Wetherall walking respectfully at Lady Cressida's side with his little sidelong look of nervous attention, and Percy Gryce bringing up the rear with Mrs. Wetherall and the Trenors.
What's on tonight? I hadn't heard of anything." "Oh, not a party, I think," said an inexperienced young Farish who had arrived late. "I put her in her cab as I was coming in, and she gave the driver the Trenors' address." "The Trenors'?" exclaimed Mrs. Jack Stepney. "Why, the house is closed Judy telephoned me from Bellomont this evening." "Did she? That's queer. I'm sure I'm not mistaken.
She had just time to take her seat before the train started; but having arranged herself in her corner with the instinctive feeling for effect which never forsook her, she glanced about in the hope of seeing some other member of the Trenors' party. She wanted to get away from herself, and conversation was the only means of escape that she knew.
"Ah, well, there must be plenty of capital on the look-out for such an investment. Perhaps you'll meet your fate tonight at the Trenors'." She returned his look interrogatively. "I thought you might be going there oh, not in that capacity! But there are to be a lot of your set Gwen Van Osburgh, the Wetheralls, Lady Cressida Raith and the George Dorsets."
Miss Bart did not cry out: she sat silent, gazing thoughtfully at her friend. The suggestion, in truth, gave expression to a possibility which, in the last weeks, had more than once recurred to her; but after a moment she said carelessly: "Mr. Rosedale wants a wife who can establish him in the bosom of the Van Osburghs and Trenors." Mrs. Fisher caught her up eagerly.
Miss Bart shrank from it slightly, and then flung herself into precipitate explanations. "Yes I came up to see my dress-maker. I am just on my way to catch the train to the Trenors'." "Ah your dress-maker; just so," he said blandly. "I didn't know there were any dress-makers in the Benedick." "The Benedick?" She looked gently puzzled. "Is that the name of this building?"
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