The House of Mirth By Edith Wharton

Lily gave him a startled look: his voice was louder than usual, and the room was beginning to fill with people. But as her glance assured her that they were still beyond ear-shot a sense of pleasure replaced her apprehension.

“Another dividend?” she asked, smiling and drawing near him in the desire not to be overheard.

“Well, not exactly: I sold out on the rise and I’ve pulled off four thou’ for you. Not so bad for a beginner, eh? I suppose you’ll begin to think you’re a pretty knowing speculator. And perhaps you won’t think poor old Gus such an awful ass as some people do.”

“I think you the kindest of friends; but I can’t thank you properly now.”

She let her eyes shine into his with a look that made up for the hand-clasp he would have claimed if they had been alone–and how glad she was that they were not! The news filled her with the glow produced by a sudden cessation of physical pain. The world was not so stupid and blundering after all: now and then a stroke of luck came to the unluckiest. At the thought her spirits began to rise: it was characteristic of her that one trifling piece of good fortune should give wings to all her hopes. Instantly came the reflection that Percy Gryce was not irretrievably lost; and she smiled to think of the excitement of recapturing him from Evie Van Osburgh. What chance could such a simpleton have against her if she chose to exert herself? She glanced about, hoping to catch a glimpse of Gryce; but her eyes lit instead on the glossy countenance of Mr. Rosedale, who was slipping through the crowd with an air half obsequious, half obtrusive, as though, the moment his presence was recognized, it would swell to the dimensions of the room.

Not wishing to be the means of effecting this enlargement, Lily quickly transferred her glance to Trenor, to whom the expression of her gratitude seemed not to have brought the complete gratification she had meant it to give.

“Hang thanking me–I don’t want to be thanked, but I should like the chance to say two words to you now and then,” he grumbled. “I thought you were going to spend the whole autumn with us, and I’ve hardly laid eyes on you for the last month. Why can’t you come back to Bellomont this evening? We’re all alone, and Judy is as cross as two sticks. Do come and cheer a fellow up. If you say yes I’ll run you over in the motor, and you can telephone your maid to bring your traps from town by the next train.”

Lily shook her head with a charming semblance of regret. “I wish I could–but it’s quite impossible. My aunt has come back to town, and I must be with her for the next few days.”

“Well, I’ve seen a good deal less of you since we’ve got to be such pals than I used to when you were Judy’s friend,” he continued with unconscious penetration.

“When I was Judy’s friend? Am I not her friend still? Really, you say the most absurd things! If I were always at Bellomont you would tire of me much sooner than Judy–but come and see me at my aunt’s the next afternoon you are in town; then we can have a nice quiet talk, and you can tell me how I had better invest my fortune.”

It was true that, during the last three or four weeks, she had absented herself from Bellomont on the pretext of having other visits to pay; but she now began to feel that the reckoning she had thus contrived to evade had rolled up interest in the interval.

The prospect of the nice quiet talk did not appear as all- sufficing to Trenor as she had hoped, and his brows continued to lower as he said: “Oh, I don’t know that I can promise you a fresh tip every day. But there’s one thing you might do for me; and that is, just to be a little civil to Rosedale. Judy has promised to ask him to dine when we get to town, but I can’t induce her to have him at Bellomont, and if you would let me bring him up now it would make a lot of difference. I don’t believe two women have spoken to him this afternoon, and I can tell you he’s a chap it pays to be decent to.”

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