Book I
17. Chapter XVII.
(continued)
"What they must have cost at this season--though of
course it's the sentiment one cares about!" the lady was
saying in a sighing staccato as Archer came in.
The three turned with surprise at his appearance,
and the lady, advancing, held out her hand.
"Dear Mr. Archer--almost my cousin Newland!"
she said. "I am the Marchioness Manson."
Archer bowed, and she continued: "My Ellen has
taken me in for a few days. I came from Cuba, where I
have been spending the winter with Spanish friends--
such delightful distinguished people: the highest nobility
of old Castile--how I wish you could know them!
But I was called away by our dear great friend here,
Dr. Carver. You don't know Dr. Agathon Carver,
founder of the Valley of Love Community?"
Dr. Carver inclined his leonine head, and the
Marchioness continued: "Ah, New York--New York--how
little the life of the spirit has reached it! But I see you
do know Mr. Winsett."
"Oh, yes--I reached him some time ago; but not by
that route," Winsett said with his dry smile.
The Marchioness shook her head reprovingly. "How
do you know, Mr. Winsett? The spirit bloweth where it
listeth."
"List--oh, list!" interjected Dr. Carver in a stentorian
murmur.
"But do sit down, Mr. Archer. We four have been
having a delightful little dinner together, and my child
has gone up to dress. She expects you; she will be
down in a moment. We were just admiring these marvellous
flowers, which will surprise her when she
reappears."
Winsett remained on his feet. "I'm afraid I must be
off. Please tell Madame Olenska that we shall all feel
lost when she abandons our street. This house has been
an oasis."
"Ah, but she won't abandon YOU. Poetry and art are
the breath of life to her. It IS poetry you write, Mr.
Winsett?"
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