Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 15, 2025
Whyland, he felt, was trying to put him at a disadvantage. But, in truth, it could not be denied that he had practically left one circle for another, was showing himself much more disposed to favour the skylights of the studios than the footlights of the rostrum. "I am still for the cause," he said. "But it can be helped from one side as well as from another. My next book "
"I came across some of your Readjusters the other day," observed Whyland, at the door of his hen-house a prodigal place with a dozen wired-in "runs" for a dozen different varieties of poultry: "Leghorns, Plymouth Rocks, Jerseys, Angoras, Hambletonians and what not," as Bond irresponsibly remarked. "They say they haven't been seeing much of you lately." Abner frowned.
The waltz suddenly ended and the Mexican renounced Medora only a few steps beyond Abner. She came along and took a vacant chair next to Edith Whyland. "Are you enjoying it?" she asked Abner. "It is very instructive; it is most typical," he replied. The orchestra presently began again, but Medora remained in her place. "Aren't you dancing this time?" asked Mrs. Whyland.
Whyland was rather languid, rather elegant, rather punctilious, rather evangelical, and Abner Joyce, before he realized what was happening to him, was launched upon a conversation with a woman who, as Clytie Summers intimated at the first opportunity, was really high in good society. "One of the swells, I suppose you mean," said Abner. "I mean nothing of the kind.
And the more she thought things over, the more despite his heckling of her she liked him. "He's a fine, serious fellow, my dear," she said to Medora, "and I'm glad to have met him." Medora flushed, wondering why Edith Whyland should have spoken just just like that. And Edith, noting Medora's flush, considerately let the matter drop. Mrs.
"We are meeting with them all over town." "Yes, yes," replied Whyland, with the sprightly ingenuousness of a boy. "Whoever looks for a fair return on his money nowadays must keep a little in advance of legislation." "Just what Pence was saying only yesterday." "I snatched that great truth from my slight association with the Tax Commission," burbled Whyland.
He had given over for the present the ponderous consideration of knotty abstractions; he totally forgot the unearned increment; and what he was offering to quiet and self-repressed Edith Whyland was being accepted thanks to the training and temperament of his hearer for "small talk." Yes, Abner had broken a large bill and was dealing out the change.
Not that he felt the strain of any temptation; he knew that he was fully capable of keeping himself unspotted from the world the world of urban society if only people would leave him alone. Two dangers stood out before all others: his impending call upon Mrs. Whyland and the approaching annual fancy-dress ball of the Art Students' League.
Then came a last elegiac paragraph, and here Abner's voice grew husky, his throat filled, he coughed, and as he laid aside his last sheet and turned to rise a quick pain darted through his chest; he coughed again and involuntarily raised his hand against his breast, and the acute and sudden pang was signalled clearly in his face. Whyland advanced quickly.
The figure immediately zigzagged back, with the same effect of eager, inquiring haste. It paused before Abner and Mrs. Whyland and suddenly sidled up. Abner recognised Adrian Bond. "Clytie?" said Bond. "Has anybody seen or heard anything of Clytie Summers?" "Well, well," said Mrs. Whyland, looking him over; "you are enrolled among the Boutet de Monvel boys too, are you?"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking