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Updated: June 7, 2025
He was ashamed of himself for the thought,—and afterwards he wondered why he should have been ashamed. After all, it was only right that she should be sorry for him. He deserved that much from her. An awkward silence ensued. Simmy Dodge coughed nervously, and then Braden advanced to greet Mrs. Tresslyn. She did not rise. Her gloved hand was extended and he took it without hesitation.
Thirty thousand dollars is not to be sneezed at, and it would be highly unjust to say that it was a sneeze that sent his grandmother, his aunt and his father into hysterics of alarm. They called him Carnahan Tresslyn. He represented a distinct phase in the regeneration of a proud and haughty family.
She held forth at some length for her daughter's benefit about "common decency," and was further shocked by Anne's complacency. "I think she's behaving with uncommon decency," said Anne. "It isn't every one who would turn the other cheek like this. Let her alone. She's the best thing that can happen to George." "My dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Tresslyn, aghast.
"Rawson," interrupted Mrs. Tresslyn, looking beyond him in the direction of the door, "Doctor Thorpe is going. Will you give him his hat and coat?" She had pressed a button beside the mantelpiece, and in response to the call, the butler stood in the doorway. "Good day, Braden. I am sorry that Anne is unable to see you to-day. She—" "Good day, Mrs.
Tresslyn said in response to this sarcasm, but she said it scathingly. For a full minute they stood looking into each other's eyes, each appraising the other, one offensively, the other defensively. She had the advantage of him, for she was prepared to defend herself while he was in the position of one who attacks without strategy and leaps from one exposed spot to another.
Lutie looked at her in surprise. "And what has that to do with it?" she demanded. Then they entered the apartment together. George Tresslyn pulled through. He was a very sick man, and he wanted to die. That is to say, he wanted to die up to a certain point and then he very much wanted to live.
Thorpe in place of the youngster on whom he had spent so much money and of whom he expected such great and glorious things. He would not listen to a word concerning a postponement. Miss Tresslyn was called up on the telephone by Wade at eight o'clock in the morning, and notified of the distressing situation. What was to be done?
Tresslyn glanced idly through the pages of a magazine, while Anne, taking up her position once more at the window, allowed her thoughts to slip back into the inevitable groove. They were not centred upon Templeton Thorpe as an object of pity but as a subject for speculation: she was thinking of the thing that Braden was doing, and of his part in this life and death affair.
It beats thunder what these panhandlers will do to pick up a dime or two. He was—say, he saw the cop, that's what it was. Lord, look at him go!" Tresslyn was racing wildly toward the corner. Lutie, aghast at this disgusting exhibition of trickery, watched the flying figure of her husband. She never knew that she was clinging to the arm of the driver.
Thorpe laughed at his fears, and promptly joined in the search for the sick man. They thought of Lutie, of course, and hurried to her small apartment. She was not at home. Her maidservant said that she did not know where she could be found. Mrs. Tresslyn had gone out alone at half-past seven, to dine with friends, but had left no instructions,—a most unusual omission, according to the young woman.
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