PublicBookshelf Book Club
Weekly tips on great novels to read.
Lord Bracondale arrived at his sister's house in Charles Street about a
quarter of an hour before her luncheon guests were due.
Anne rushed down to see him, meeting her husband on the stairs.
"Oh, don't come in yet, Billy, like a darling," she said, "I want to
talk to Hector alone."
And the meek and fond Lord Anningford had obediently retired to his
"Well, Hector," she said, when she had greeted him, "and so you are
going to the Fitzgeralds' for Whitsuntide, and not to Bracondale, mother
tells me this morning. She is in the seventh heaven, taking it for a
sign, as you had to manoeuvre so to be asked, that things are coming
to a climax between you and Morella."
"Morella? Is she going?" said Hector, absently. He had quite forgotten
that fact, so perfectly indifferent was he to her movements, and so
completely had his own aims engrossed him.
"Why--dear boy!" Anne gasped. The whole scene, highly colored by
repetition, had been recounted to her. How Morella had told him of her
plans, and how he had at once got introduced to Lady Ada, and played his
cards so skilfully that the end of the evening produced the invitation.
"Oh yes, of course, I remember she is going," he said, impatiently.
"Anne, you haven't asked that beast Wensleydown to-day, have you?"