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Updated: June 7, 2025
"I didn't know you were a friend of hers," said he as they stood in front of the hotel waiting for the taxi that was to take Thorpe to a hospital. Thorpe remembered the admonition. "I tried to put a little back-bone into George Tresslyn at the time of the rumpus, if that's what you'd call being a friend to her," he said evasively.
As she lay there now, propped up against the pillows, he could not help contrasting her with the splendid, high-bred daughter of Constance Tresslyn. That she was a high-minded, honest, God-fearing girl he could not for an instant doubt, but that she lacked the—there is but one word for it—class of the Tresslyn women he could not but feel as well as see.
I wish old Tempy could see you now. He'd—" "If you are going to be disagreeable, George, you may get out at once," said Mrs. Tresslyn. "I never felt less like being objectionable in my life," said he, "so if you don't mind I'll stay awhile. By the way, Anne, speaking of disagreeable things, I am sure I saw Brady Thorpe on the avenue a bit ago.
There was something admirable in the stubborn, drunken loyalty of George Tresslyn,—a loyalty that never wavered even though there was no such thing as hope ahead of him.
An hour afterward, she said to her mother: "I'll make out one check to you covering everything, mother. It will look better if you pay them yourself. Thirty-seven thousand four hundred and twelve dollars. That's everything, is it,—you're sure?" "Everything," said Mrs. Tresslyn, settling back in her chair. "I will not attempt to thank you, Anne.
Anne had no illusions concerning herself. Mawkish sentimentality had no place in her character. She was straightforward and above board with herself, and she would not cheapen herself in her own eyes. Another woman might have gone down on her knees, whimpering a cry for forgiveness, but not Anne Tresslyn.
She's making good with them, too, after a fashion all her own. Must be something fine in a girl like that, Brady,—I mean something worth while. Straight as a string, and a long way from being a disgrace to the name of Tresslyn. Quaint, isn't she?" "Amazingly so. I think George would marry her all over again if she'd have him, mother or no mother."
If she had a thought for George Tresslyn she succeeded very well in keeping it to herself. Men would have made love to her, but she denied them that exquisite distraction. Back in her mind lurked something that guaranteed immunity. The year had dealt its changes to Lutie as well as to the others, but they were not important.
I despise myself, for that matter, so he's not quite alone in his opinion. I've sold myself for a price, mother, but you must at least grant me the privilege of refusing to draw interest on my infamy." "Infamy!" gasped Mrs. Tresslyn. "Infamy? What rot,—what utter rot!" "Just the same, I shall confine myself to the original bargain. It is bad enough.
It shall be worth thirty thousand dollars in its own right the day it is born." Anne was beaming. "And on that same day, mother dear, I will replace the amount that you turn over to—" "You will do nothing of the kind," said Mrs. Tresslyn sharply. "I am not doing this thing because I am kind-hearted, affectionate, or even remorseful.
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