Book II
32. Chapter XXXII.
(continued)
"I never suggest," returned Mr. Jackson imperturbably.
"But Madame Olenska's foreign bringing-up may
make her less particular--"
"Ah," the two elder ladies sighed.
"Still, to have kept her grandmother's carriage at a
defaulter's door!" Mr. van der Luyden protested; and
Archer guessed that he was remembering, and resenting,
the hampers of carnations he had sent to the little
house in Twenty-third Street.
"Of course I've always said that she looks at things
quite differently," Mrs. Archer summed up.
A flush rose to May's forehead. She looked across
the table at her husband, and said precipitately: "I'm
sure Ellen meant it kindly."
"Imprudent people are often kind," said Mrs. Archer,
as if the fact were scarcely an extenuation; and Mrs.
van der Luyden murmured: "If only she had consulted
some one--"
"Ah, that she never did!" Mrs. Archer rejoined.
At this point Mr. van der Luyden glanced at his wife,
who bent her head slightly in the direction of Mrs.
Archer; and the glimmering trains of the three ladies
swept out of the door while the gentlemen settled down
to their cigars. Mr. van der Luyden supplied short ones
on Opera nights; but they were so good that they made
his guests deplore his inexorable punctuality.
Archer, after the first act, had detached himself from
the party and made his way to the back of the club
box. From there he watched, over various Chivers,
Mingott and Rushworth shoulders, the same scene that
he had looked at, two years previously, on the night of
his first meeting with Ellen Olenska. He had half-expected her to appear again in old Mrs. Mingott's
box, but it remained empty; and he sat motionless, his
eyes fastened on it, till suddenly Madame Nilsson's
pure soprano broke out into "M'ama, non m'ama . . . "
Archer turned to the stage, where, in the familiar
setting of giant roses and pen-wiper pansies, the same
large blonde victim was succumbing to the same small
brown seducer.
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