Abbott had been driven to keep
her word and invite Mortimer Dwight to her historic board she would have
depressed him with the cool pleasant detachment she reserved for those whom
she knew slightly and cared for not at all; Mrs. Groome, automatically
gracious, would have retired within the formidable fortress of an exterior
built in the still more exclusive eighties; Aunt Clara would have sat
petrified with horror at the desecration; and Mrs. Hunter, free from the
obligations of hospitality, would have been brusque, frankly supercilious,
made him as uncomfortable as possible.
All this Alexina angrily resented, not knowing that their amiability was
in part inspired by sympathy, Gwynne having told them the story of his
cousin's tragic experience; although they did in truth regard him as a
possibly heaven-sent solution of a problem that was causing them all, even
Mrs. Hunter, acute anxiety.
Young Gathbroke was handsomer than Dwight. He was younger, and his
circumstances were far more romantic, if romance Alexina must have. It was
plain that he was fascinated by the dear silly child, who, in her turn,
would no doubt promptly forget the ineligible Dwight if the Englishman
proved to be serious and paid her persistent court.
Nevertheless Gathbroke, before the luncheon was half over, felt that he was
making no progress with Alexina. Subtly it was conveyed to him on one of
those unseen currents that travel directly to the sensitive mind, that
these amiable people knew his story; and, no doubt, in all its harrowing
details.
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