After that there was a compromise on both sides. Mrs. Hunter lunched or
dined at Rincona in her simplest frocks and Mrs. Abbott wore her best when
honoring Mrs. Hunter and others at Burlingame. She even went so far as to
have some extremely smart silk voiles (the fashionable material of the
moment) and linens made, and when asked to a wedding, a garden party, or
a great function given to some visitor of distinction, complimented the
occasion to the limit of her resources.
III
Mrs. Hunter, in white duck, a sailor hat perched above her angular somewhat
masculine face, was sitting on the Abbott verandah as the two Englishmen
drove up. She waved her cigarette and cried gayly in her hearty resonant
voice:
"Two men! What luck! And in time for lunch. I've hardly seen a man since
the first day of the fire. Leave your car anywhere and come in out of the
sun. I'll call Maria, and, incidentally, mention whiskey and soda."
"The whiskey and soda is all right," said Gwynne mopping his brow; Nature,
having wreaked her worst on California, seemed determined to atone by
unseasonably brilliant weather, and the day under the blazing blue vault
was very hot.
Mrs. Abbott appeared in a few moments, smiling, cool, in immaculate white,
the collar of her shirtwaist high and unwilted. Her weather-beaten face
looked years older than Mrs. Hunter's, who, although plain by comparison
with the once beautiful Maria Groome, had treated her clean healthy skin
with marked respect.
Pages:
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117