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Updated: May 25, 2025
Kame, after an amused glance at Brent, who had not deigned to answer her. "I promised to go to Newport with her at the end of the week, but I haven't been able to find her." "Cecil doesn't know," said Trixton Brent. "The police have been looking for him for a fortnight. Where the deuce have you been, Cecil?" "To the Adirondacks," replied Mr Grainger, gravely.
Holt," cried Honora, "could be kinder to his friends than Mr. Brent!" "We were speaking of disinterested kindness, my dear," was Mrs. Holt's reply. "You're quite right, Mrs. Holt," said Trixton Brent, beginning, as the dinner progressed, to take in the lady opposite a delight that surprised him. "I'm willing to confess that I've led an extremely selfish existence."
Rather than run the gantlet of the crowded veranda she stepped out on the lawn, and there encountered Trixton Brent. He had, in an incredibly brief time, changed from his polo clothes to flannels and a straw hat. He looked at her and whistled, and barred her passage. "Hello!" he cried. "Hoity-toity! Where are we going in such a hurry?"
The head waiter planted them conspicuously in the centre of the room; one of the strangest parties, from the point of view of a connoisseur of New York, that ever sat down together. Mrs. Holt with her curls, and her glasses laid flat on the bosom of her dove-coloured dress; Honora in a costume dedicated to the very latest of the sports, and Trixton Brent in English tweeds.
She was indeed at a loss what to say. She could not bring herself to ask him whether he had been influenced by Trixton Brent. If he had, she told herself, she did not wish to know. He was her husband, after all, and it would be too humiliating. And then he had taken the house. "Have you hit on a palace you like better?" he inquired, with a clumsy attempt at banter.
"I'll take a little," she said weakly; "it's so bad for my gout." "What," asked Trixton Brent, flashing an amused glance at Honora, "are the symptoms of gout, Lula? I hear a great deal about that trouble these days, but it seems to affect every one differently." Mrs. Chandos grew very red, but Warry Trowbridge saved her. "It's a swelling," he said innocently.
"There's nothing to worry about," he assured her. "Nothing broken. It's only the igniting system that needs adjustment." Although this was so much Greek to Honora, she was reassured. Trixton Brent inspired confidence.
There, indeed, was Trixton Brent, staring at them from the end of the hall, and making no attempt to approach them. "I think I'll go into the dressing-room and leave my coat," said Honora, outwardly calm but inwardly desperate. Fortunately, Lula made no attempt to follow her. "You're a dream in that veil, my dear," Mrs. Chandos called after her.
It was all very well to say the motor broke down; but unfortunately Trixton Brent's reputation was not much better than that of his car. Trixton Brent, as might have been expected, was inclined to treat the matter as a joke. "There's nothing very formal about a Quicksands dinner-party," he said. "We'll have a cosey little dinner in town, and call 'em up on the telephone."
Visions of a scene arose before her in the event that Mrs. Holt should discover his status. But evidently Trixton Brent had no intention of discussing his marriage. "Judging by some of my married friends and acquaintances," he said, "I have no desire to try matrimony as a remedy for unselfishness." "Then," replied Mrs.
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