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Updated: May 31, 2025
"A man may be anxious and worried, I suppose, without being actually in pain." "I am sorry to hear you are worried. Is it business?" "Yes business." "Consult Mr. Kendrew." "I am waiting to consult him." Mrs. Vanborough rose immediately. "Ring, dear," she said, "when you want coffee." As she passed her husband she stopped and laid her hand tenderly on his forehead.
He poured himself out another glass of wine, and drank it at a draught before he replied. "It's not so easy to tell you what I want," he said, "after the tone you have taken with me about my wife." Mr. Kendrew looked surprised. "Is Mrs. Vanborough concerned in the matter?" he asked. "Yes." "Does she know about it?" "No." "Have you kept the thing a secret out of regard for her?" "Yes."
Five years passed and the lives of the three men who had sat at the dinner-table in the Hampstead villa began, in their altered aspects, to reveal the progress of time and change. Mr. Kendrew; Mr. Delamayn; Mr. Vanborough. Let the order in which they are here named be the order in which their lives are reviewed, as seen once more after a lapse of five years.
Vanborough had returned to the contemplation of the alternative between freeing himself or not freeing himself from the marriage tie. One of his elbows was on the table, he bit fiercely at his finger-nails. He muttered between his teeth, "What am I to do?" A sound of rustling silk made itself gently audible in the passage outside.
Being a landed gentleman, the defendant had only to issue the necessary orders and behold, Mr. Delamayn was in Parliament! In the House of Commons the new member and Mr. Vanborough met again. They sat on the same bench, and sided with the same party. Mr. Delamayn noticed that Mr. Vanborough was looking old and worn and gray. He put a few questions to a well-informed person.
Her husband, some years younger than herself, faced her at the table, sitting silent and constrained, and never, even by accident, looking at his wife. The third person was a guest. The husband's name was Vanborough. The guest's name was Kendrew. It was the end of the dinner. The fruit and the wine were on the table. Mr. Vanborough pushed the bottles in silence to Mr. Kendrew.
Vanborough was not only visible but audible in the garden; giving her orders to one of the out-of-door servants with the tone and manner which proclaimed the mistress of the house. Suppose he said, "She is not my friend's wife?" Female curiosity would inevitably put the next question, "Who is she?" Suppose he invented an explanation?
Vanborough, on his side, stood petrified. "Lady Jane!" he exclaimed. "Is it possible?" He barely looked at her while she spoke. His eyes wandered guiltily toward the window which led into the garden. The situation was a terrible one equally terrible if his wife discovered Lady Jane, or if Lady Jane discovered his wife. For the moment nobody was visible on the lawn.
Vanborough finished his glass of wine, and looked his friend steadily in the face. "My ambition," he said, "sees a Parliamentary career, with a Peerage at the end of it and with no obstacle in the way but my estimable wife." Mr. Kendrew lifted his hand warningly. "Don't talk in that way," he said. "If you're joking it's a joke I don't see.
Vanborough looked back into the far corner of the room, in which the lawyer sat, impenetrably waiting for events. "Oblige me by coming here for a moment," he said. Mr. Delamayn rose and complied with the request. Mr. Vanborough addressed himself to Lady Jane. "I beg to refer you to my man of business. He is not interested in deceiving you." "Am I required simply to speak to the fact?" asked Mr.
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