Somehow--I may be blind--I can't think that I am
doing him an infamous wrong: that he lost you proves that. Why, under
the circumstances, should you, anyone, stay? I don't feel a particle
immoral, or even devilish. It's all so sensible and balanced and
superior. No, no, let William watch out for himself; his club, he's so
devoted to, won't fail him. Fanny and he will have their whole worlds
to sympathize with their injury. We don't need sympathy."
Lee walked back to the hotel, the pig-skin wrapped walking stick
swinging from an arm, his bearing confident and relaxed. He stopped at
the desk for a conference with the porter--a basket of fruit from the
restaurant, and, if procurable regularly or irregularly, a drawing-room
on the Washington train. Then he went up and closed his bag: he had
time for dinner and several cigars afterwards; he wasn't hungry, but
the ceremony would kill the intervening two hours and more.
The porter found him later and delivered his tickets, including the
check for a drawing-room, secured as irregularly as possible from the
Pullman conductor. There were, it began to seem, to be no minor
annoyances. At a few minutes before ten he was standing, as he had
arranged with Savina, with his bag before the hotel; and, just past the
hour, the cab which held her turned in to the sidewalk. She had two
bags, but one was very small--her toilet things, she explained--and she
was carrying a jewel case.
Pages:
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299