The House of Mirth Edith Wharton (romantic love story reading .txt) 📖

littered writing-table, and a general aspect of lamp-lit familiarity, so that it was a surprise not to see Judy’s energetic figure start up from the armchair near the fire.

It was apparently Trenor himself who had been occupying the seat in question, for it was overhung by a cloud of cigar smoke, and near it stood one of those intricate folding tables which British ingenuity has devised to facilitate the circulation of tobacco and spirits. The sight of such appliances in a drawing-room was not unusual in Lily’s set, where smoking and drinking were unrestricted by considerations of time and place, and her first movement was to help herself to one of the cigarettes recommended by Trenor, while she checked his loquacity by asking, with a surprised glance: “Where’s Judy?”

Trenor, a little heated by his unusual flow of words, and perhaps by prolonged propinquity with the decanters, was bending over the latter to decipher their silver labels.

“Here, now, Lily, just a drop of cognac in a little fizzy water⁠—you do look pinched, you know: I swear the end of your nose is red. I’ll take another glass to keep you company⁠—Judy?⁠—Why, you see, Judy’s got a devil of a head ache⁠—quite knocked out with it, poor thing⁠—she asked me to explain⁠—make it all right, you know⁠—Do come up to the fire, though; you look dead-beat, really. Now do let me make you comfortable, there’s a good girl.”

He had taken her hand, half-banteringly, and was drawing her toward a low seat by the hearth; but she stopped and freed herself quietly.

“Do you mean to say that Judy’s not well enough to see me? Doesn’t she want me to go upstairs?”

Trenor drained the glass he had filled for himself, and paused to set it down before he answered.

“Why, no⁠—the fact is, she’s not up to seeing anybody. It came on suddenly, you know, and she asked me to tell you how awfully sorry she was⁠—if she’d known where you were dining she’d have sent you word.”

“She did know where I was dining; I mentioned it in my telegram. But it doesn’t matter, of course. I suppose if she’s so poorly she won’t go back to Bellomont in the morning, and I can come and see her then.”

“Yes: exactly⁠—that’s capital. I’ll tell her you’ll pop in tomorrow morning. And now do sit down a minute, there’s a dear, and let’s have a nice quiet jaw together. You won’t take a drop, just for sociability? Tell me what you think of that cigarette. Why, don’t you like it? What are you chucking it away for?”

“I am chucking it away because I must go, if you’ll have the goodness to call a cab for me,” Lily returned with a smile.

She did not like Trenor’s unusual excitability, with its too evident explanation, and the thought of being alone with him, with her friend out of reach upstairs, at the other end of the great empty house, did not conduce to a desire to prolong their tête-à-tête.

But Trenor, with a promptness which did not escape her, had moved between herself and the door.

“Why must you go, I should like to know? If Judy’d been here you’d have sat gossiping till all hours⁠—and you can’t even give me five minutes! It’s always the same story. Last night I couldn’t get near you⁠—I went to that damned vulgar party just to see you, and there was everybody talking about you, and asking me if I’d ever seen anything so stunning, and when I tried to come up and say a word, you never took any notice, but just went on laughing and joking with a lot of asses who only wanted to be able to swagger about afterward, and look knowing when you were mentioned.”

He paused, flushed by his diatribe, and fixing on her a look in which resentment was the ingredient she least disliked. But she had regained her presence of mind, and stood composedly in the middle of the room, while her slight smile seemed to put an ever increasing distance between herself and Trenor.

Across it she said: “Don’t be absurd, Gus. It’s past eleven, and I must really ask you to ring for a cab.”

He remained immovable, with the lowering forehead she had grown to detest.

“And supposing I won’t ring for one⁠—what’ll you do then?”

“I shall go upstairs to Judy if you force me to disturb her.”

Trenor drew a step nearer and laid his hand on her arm. “Look here, Lily: won’t you give me five minutes of your own accord?”

“Not tonight, Gus: you⁠—”

“Very good, then: I’ll take ’em. And as many more as I want.” He had squared himself on the threshold, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. He nodded toward the chair on the hearth.

“Go and sit down there, please: I’ve got a word to say to you.”

Lily’s quick temper was getting the better of her fears. She drew herself up and moved toward the door.

“If you have anything to say to me, you must say it another time. I shall go up to Judy unless you call a cab for me at once.”

He burst into a laugh. “Go upstairs and welcome, my dear; but you won’t find Judy. She ain’t there.”

Lily cast a startled look upon him. “Do you mean that Judy is not in the house⁠—not in town?” she exclaimed.

“That’s just what I do mean,” returned Trenor, his bluster sinking to sullenness under her look.

“Nonsense⁠—I don’t believe you. I am going upstairs,” she said impatiently.

He drew unexpectedly aside, letting her reach the threshold unimpeded.

“Go up and welcome; but my wife is at Bellomont.”

But Lily had a flash of reassurance. “If she hadn’t come she would have sent me word⁠—”

“She did; she telephoned me this afternoon to let you know.”

“I received no message.”

“I didn’t send any.”

The two measured each other for a moment, but Lily still saw her opponent through a blur of scorn that made all other considerations indistinct.

“I can’t imagine your object in playing such a stupid trick on me; but