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Updated: June 8, 2025
Miss Bines accordingly heard that it was such a pity young Milbrey drank so, because his only salvation lay in making a rich marriage, and a young man, nowadays, had to keep fairly sober to accomplish that. Really, Mrs. Drelmer felt sorry for the poor weak fellow. "Good-hearted chap, but he has no character, my dear, so I'm afraid there's no hope for him.
Drelmer, "a creature in a waiter's jacket having emotions of that sort!" "Our excellent country," said Mr. Milbrey, "is perhaps not yet what it will be; there is undeniably a most distressing rawness where we might expect finish.
"Rot the luck!" said Mauburn; "I'm slated to take Mrs. Drelmer and Miss Bines to a musicale at the Van Lorrecks, where I'm certain to fall asleep trying to look as if I quite liked it, you know." "You come," Milbrey urged Percival. "My sister's there and the governor and mother." But for the moment Percival was reflecting, going over in his mind the recent homily of Higbee.
Especially did she seem grateful for the zealous tutelage and chaperonage of Mrs. Drelmer. "Everybody in New York plays bridge, my dear, and of course you must learn," that capable lady had said in the beginning. "But I never was bright at cards," the girl confessed, "and I'm afraid I couldn't learn bridge well enough to interest you good players." "Nonsense!" was Mrs. Drelmer's assurance.
"How girlish your little friend Mrs. Akemit is!" said his mother. "How did she come to lose her husband?" "Lost him in South Dakota," replied her son, shortly. "Divorced, ma," explained Psyche, "and Mrs. Drelmer says her family's good, but she's too gay." "Ah!" exclaimed Percival, "Mrs. Drelmer's hammer must be one of those cute little gold ones, all set with precious stones.
For my part, I'd like to wear nothing but a cold bath." Mrs. Drelmer suddenly betrayed signs of excitement. She sat up straight in the wicker deck-chair, glanced down a column of her newspaper, and then looked up. Mauburn's head appeared out of the cabin's gloom. He was still speaking to some one below. Mrs. Drelmer rattled the paper and waved it at him. He came up the stairs. "What's the row?"
"Better not try to describe her while I'm by, you know," said Mrs. Drelmer, sympathetically. "Well his wife you know, will simply worry him into the grave a bit sooner, I fancy that's all can possibly come of it." "Well, old man," said Percival, "I don't pretend to know the workings of my sister's mind, but you ought to be able to win a girl on your own merits, title or no title."
"That's only Uncle Peter's way of saying you can help the others, even if you can't do much yourself at first. And won't Mrs. Drelmer be delighted to know it's all settled?" "Well," said Uncle Peter to Percival, later in the evening, "Pish has done better than you have here. It's a pity you didn't pick out some good sensible girl, and marry her in the midst of your other doings."
"Who was your elderly friend?" she asked, as they were driven slowly up the old-fashioned street. "Oh! that's Joe Drelmer. She's not so old, you know; not a day over forty, Joe can't be; fine old stock; she was a Leydenbroek and her husband's family is one of the very oldest in New York. Awfully exclusive. Down to meet friends, but they'd not shown up, either.
From the landing on a still morning in late July, Mrs. Drelmer surveyed the fleet of sailing and steam yachts at anchor in Newport harbour. She was beautifully and expensively gowned in nun's grey chiffon; her toque was of chiffon and lace, and she held a pale grey parasol, its ivory handle studded with sapphires.
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