Alexina, who had been reading in her bedroom, realized that it must be
quite half an hour since she had turned a page. She lifted her shoulders
impatiently. She was in no humor for reading.
It was only eight o'clock. Far too early for bed. Mortimer had gone to Los
Angeles on business. He had been gone a week, and she admitted to herself
with the new frankness she had determined to cultivate--that she might
meet, with the clearest possible vision, whatever three-cornered deals
Life might have in store for her--that she had not missed him at all. His
absence had been a heavenly interlude. She and Aileen had gone to the
moving pictures unescorted every night (a performance of which he would
have disapproved profoundly), and they had lunched downtown every day until
Alexina had suddenly discovered that she had no more money in her purse;
and, knowing nothing whatever even of minor finance, was under the
impression that having given Mortimer her power of attorney she would not
be able to draw from the bank.
Aileen had gone down to Burlingame to visit Sibyl Bascom for a few days.
Alexina had declined to go, although it was a quiet party; it would be
embarrassing not to tip the servants.
The wind gave a long angry shriek as it flew round the corner of the house
and fastened its teeth in its enemies, the eucalyptus trees; who shook
it off with a loud furious rattle of their leaves and slapped the window
severely for good measure.
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