In this hour of profound sorrow, when the human heart is quite honest,
Alexina, however her conscious mind might be averted from the fact,
regarded Mortimer Dwight as an outsider, an agreeable alien who had no
permanent place in the immense permanency of the Ballinger-Groomes. She
wanted only her own family, her own inherent sort. Sally had hastened to
California as soon as her mother's illness had been pronounced dangerous,
and had stayed in the house until a week ago when she had been ordered by
the doctor to Santa Barbara to get rid of a heavy cold on her chest. She
had telegraphed the day before that she was threatened with pneumonia, and
Maria, assured that her mother was in no immediate danger, had gone down to
spend two days with her.
Possibly Alexina caught a flash from the mind of this strange and
interesting sister-in-law, for she added hastily:
"You know how hard Mortimer works, poor dear. And I do not feel in the
least like crying. I shall write telegrams to Ballinger and Geary: my
brothers, you know." (Gora ground her teeth.) "It was too sad they could
not get here, but Ballinger is in South America and Geary on a diet. I
must also write a cablegram to an old friend of mine who has married a
Frenchman, Olive de Morsigny. She was always so fond of mother. Would you
also mind telephoning to Rincona about seven?"
"I'll do all the telephoning. Go back to bed as soon as possible.
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