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Updated: July 8, 2025
But I do get it; and I do know something is in the wind, more than what is told to you and I." "One can only hope that it will be nothing foolish," Diane murmured, guardedly. "It will be something foolish," Mrs. Wappinger declared, "and you may take my word for it. Derek Pruyn can't arrogate to himself the powers of the Lord above any more than we can.
It would have taken a more weatherwise person than he to guess that behind this domestic calm the storm was brewing. The first intuition of threatening events came to Mrs. Wappinger. "I've seen nothing and heard nothing," she declared, in her emphatic way, to Diane, "but I know something is going on." That was in September. They sat in the shade of the cool flag-paved pergola at Waterwild, Mrs.
She informed the manager of her success with his mysterious young guest, and arranged that Dorothea, when she came, should spend the night with her. Then she put herself in telephonic communication, first with Mrs. Wappinger, and then with Fulton.
What was written within was more sprawling still: "For Heaven's sake, come to me at once. The expected has happened, and I don't know what to do. The motor will wait and bring you. As Diane entered, Mrs. Wappinger, dishevelled and distraught, was standing in the hail, a slip of yellow paper in her hand. "Oh, my dear, I'm so glad you've come! I'm just about crazy! Read this!"
Before she went to bed that night Dorothea was summoned to her father's presence, to receive the commands which should regulate her conduct toward "the young man Wappinger." They could have been summed up in the statement that she must know him no more.
If ever you see her " "Oh, but I don't not now." "That's a pity. If you did, you could pump her." "I'm afraid I'm not much good at that sort of thing." "Well, I am, when I get a chance. I'm bound to find out, somehow; and there are more ways of killing a cat than by giving it poison." A few weeks later still Mrs. Wappinger informed Diane that Dorothea Pruyn was not happy.
"It's a pretty safe alternative," Diane smiled, making an effort to speak without betraying her feelings. "Reggie is a good-natured boy," Mrs. Wappinger pursued, "but a regular water-pipe. If you want to get anything out of him you've only got to turn the faucet. It's just as well that he is; because whatever Carli is up to Reggie knows, and what Reggie knows Marion Grimston knows.
When he began coming forward, it was with a slow, interrogative movement, as though he were asking how she had come there, in disregard of their preconcerted signals. Some exclamation was already on his lips, when, by the light streaming from the windows of the hotel, he saw his mistake, and paused. "Good-evening, Mr. Wappinger. What an extraordinary meeting!"
Between the slightly overcrowded urns and statues there were bright dashes of color, here of dahlias in full bloom, there of reddening garlands of ampelopsis or Virginia creeper. It was what Mrs. Wappinger called an "off-day," otherwise she could not have had Diane at Waterwild.
It's generally the man who is most competent in his own domain who is most likely to blunder when he gets into the woman's; and I, for one, would rather have him do it. I've had to suffer because of it, and so has Dorothea; and yet that doesn't make me like it less." "No, I dare say not," Mrs. Wappinger responded, sympathetically. "Mr. Wappinger himself was just such a man as that.
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