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Updated: July 9, 2025
She's friendly and powerfully pretty and, why, I see it now, one of the Wordlings of this world would have taken Andrew Bedient into camp years ago, if he were designed for that kind of woman. Why, that's the kind of woman he doubtless knows " "Do you know what I think?" Beth inquired. "I think you should be punished for using Mrs. Wordling or anyone else as a foil.
She loved mornings; New York could never change her delight in the long forenoon. She was at work at two, and undisturbed for two hours. Beth's studio was the garret of an old mansion, a step from Fifth Avenue in the Thirties. Its effect, as one entered, was golden at midday, and turned brown with the first shadows. Mrs. Wordling called at four. Wordling looked remarkably well.
Last Saturday when I got there the plumbers had just come. Very carefully they took out all the plumbing and laid it on the front lawn; then put it back.... Good-by." "Good-by, and thank you, Beth." "I am glad that it pleases you, Mrs. Wordling." Her tone was pleasantly poised. Bedient missed nothing now. He did not blame Mrs. Wordling for using him.
The airs were still; the night serene as in a zone of peace blessed of God. The silence of Gramercy gave him back poise which the city a terrible companion had torn apart. "That's old John, who never misses a night at my theatre door, when that door opens to New York," Mrs. Wordling said. "He only asks to know that I am in the city to be at my service night or day.
Wordling; Vina Nettleton awed him, though he was full of praise for her; he admired Kate Wilkes and had a keen relish for her mind. The latter had passed the crisis, had put on the full armor of the world; she was sharp and vindictive and implacable to the world; a woman who had won rather than lost her squareness, who showed her strength and hid her tenderness.
Some of my things are going over the water." "Poor little Wordling.... I wonder what she has drawn of the great Driving Good since that night?... I think it would puzzle even Andrew Bedient to make her hark to any soul but New York's " "And you, Kate this Eve what has the Year brought?" "Nonsense, I'm glass; hold oil or acid with equal ease," Kate said, leaning back in the big chair.
It was Cairns, who inquired if she had heard aught of his friend.... "I reached town Saturday morning," Cairns went on, "and found a note that he would be away for the day and possibly Sunday; didn't say where nor why. He left no word at the Club. In fact, Mrs. Wordling called me just now to inquire, volunteering that Bedient had been in her world Friday. Excuse me for bothering you.
No woman could have dethroned Beth Truba this hour. Wordling arose, and led the way to the gate... which had been locked meanwhile. Mrs. Wordling was inclined to cry a little. "One couldn't possibly climb the fence!" she moaned. "They have keys at the Club, haven't they?" Bedient asked. "Yes. All the houses and establishments on the park front have keys.
We all know David Cairns is selling everything he writes at a top-figure; that he is eminently successful, quite the thing in many periodicals, finely pleased with himself as a successful man " "Wordling," said Kate Wilkes, leaning toward her, "what kind of people do you associate with in your work?" "The best, dear, always the best. People who think, and who love their work."
Wordling appeared in the breakfast room, and sat down at the table with Kate Wilkes, who was having her coffee. "What an extraordinary evening we had," the actress remarked. "David's party was surely a success." "Rather," assented Miss Wilkes, who felt old and nettled. She seemed of endless length, and one would suppose that her clothes were designed so that not one bone should be missed. Mrs.
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