"In a certain western city which is famous for its flour and lumber
interests, there lives a bachelor who has made it still more
illustrious in the realms of art and literature. It is a standing insult
to feminine humanity that a man both famous and wealthy should remain
single, but, so far, all attacks upon the citadel of his heart have
proved futile. Rumor now has it that a capitulation is imminent, but the
besieging force has been driven to unusual measures to secure it. A
college training gives a girl the advantage over her fellows, both in
expedients and in determination. Not content with the extraordinary
attractions conferred on her by her own beauty, the young lady who is
ahead in the race for the gay bachelor's heart has been carrying the war
into Egypt. Gossip saith that there are quiet hours spent by these two
in the seclusion of the bachelor's stately home, when, doubtless, his
masculine heart melteth within him, and the bonds of his servitude are
tightened. Still, it is a dangerous game for a supposedly reputable girl
to play, isn't it? and a little--well, let us call it unconventional."
Mrs. Lenox shut the magazine and her own teeth.
"It is inconceivable that such stuff should be printed, and that people
should buy it," she said. "But you see it is so vague that it might
refer to any one at any place, and even if we knew who was meant, it is
too insignificant a piece of small malice to receive anything but
contempt. And now good-by, Mrs. Quincy. I hope these coming spring days
are going to help you to better health."
"Good-by. I always appreciate your visits," whined Mrs. Quincy. "I'm
sure, with all you have to do, I don't wonder you don't come oftener. I
know there's nothin' to draw you."
Mrs. Lenox went away with a deep breath and a longing for fresh air. She
shook her head at the waiting coachman and said, "I am going to walk,
Emil."
She moved along in a cloud of conjectures, not that the small paragraph
seemed to her very important, but she was a little sickened by the
sudden glimpse of petty minds, who, being rich, stay by preference in
the slums.
"Mrs. Quincy, like Mrs. Percival, makes me feel that life is not a big
thing to be lived for some big reason, but an affair to be scrambled
through day by day, grabbing everything you can, and hating those who
have grabbed more. What a way to worry through seventy or eighty years!"
she groaned to herself.
Almost at her own door she met Ram Juna, who turned with her to make one
of his ponderous calls, while she sat and talked with him of emptiness
and philosophy, with that vivacious patience that becomes a habit with
women of the world; but when the door opened and her husband appeared,
accompanied by Dick Percival and Ellery Norris she heaved a distinct
sigh of relief.