Mrs. Pendleton's Four-in-hand by Gertrude Atherton

Author:Gertrude Atherton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction, romance, humour
Publisher: Distributed Proofreaders Canada
Published: 1903-01-26T05:00:00+00:00

SCENE III

Mrs. Pendleton entered the drawing-room on tiptoe, with hand upraised.

“Well! the sky did not fall, and the train did not ditch, and the lightning did not strike, and we are neither of us dead. And you—you look as strapping as a West Point cadet. Fie upon your principles!”

“That is a charming tirade with which to greet an impatient lover,” cried Boswell, with beaming face. “You are serious, of course?”

“You have heard the parable of a woman’s ‘No’?” She gave both his outstretched hands a little shake, then retreated behind a chair and rested both arms on its back.

“My anger is appeased, but I think I am entitled to some recompense.”

“What can he mean? Would you prefer sherry or red wine?”

“There is a draught brewed upon Olympus which the gods call nectar—”

“So sorry. We are just out. I gave the last thimbleful away an hour ago.”

“Oh, you did! May I inquire to whom you gave it?”

“You may, indeed. And I would tell you—could I only remember.”

“Provoking—goddess! But perhaps you will allow me to look for myself. Perchance I might find a drop or two remaining. I am willing to take what I can get and be thankful.”

“Then you will never get much,” she thought. “The dregs are always bitter.”

“There can be no dregs to the nectar in question.”

“And the last drop always goes to the head. I have heard it asserted upon authority. Think of the scandal—the butler—oh, Heaven!”

“The intoxication would make me but tread the air. I should walk right over the butler’s head. Where did you get that ring?”

“Is it not lovely? It was” (heaving a profound sigh) “the last gift of poor dear Mr. Pendleton.”

“Indeed! Well, under the circumstances, perhaps you will not mind removing it and wearing that of another unfortunate,” and he placed one knee on the chair over which she leaned and produced a ring.

“Not at all. What a beauty! How did you know that the ruby was my favourite stone?” And she bent her body backward, under pretence of holding the stone up to the light.

“But you have a number of rubies and pearls in your possession, of which I consider myself the rightful owner. Shall I have to call in the law to give me mine own?”

“The pearls are sharp, and the rubies may be paste. I have the best of the bargain.”

“I am a connoisseur on the subject of precious stones—of precious articles of all sorts, in fact. What an outrageous coquette you are! What is the use of keeping a man in misery?”

“Why are men always in such a hurry? If I were a man now—and an author—I should wait for moonlight, waves breaking on rocks, and all the rest of it.”

“All the old property business, in short. I am both a man and an author, therefore I know the folly of delay in this short life.”

“But suppose the door should open suddenly?”

“I have been here ten minutes, and it has not opened yet.”

“But it might, you know; and the small boys of this house are an exaggeration of all that have gone before.

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