Mrs. Warriner and her daughter were on their way home, or to one of
their homes; this one was up the Hills of Lenox. They had been in
Egypt and up the Nile, and for the last two months had been slowly
working their way north through Greece and Italy. They were in
London, at the Savoy, waiting for their sailing-day, and on the night
of their arrival young Corbin was giving them a dinner. For three
months Mrs. Warriner and himself had alternated in giving each other
dinners in every part of Southern Europe, and the gloom which hung
over this one was not due to the fact that the diners had become
wearied of one another's society, but that the opportunities still
left to them for this exchange of hospitality were almost at an end.
That night, for the hundredth time, young Corbin had decided it would
have been much better for him if they had come to an end many weeks
previous, for the part he played in the trio was a difficult one. It
was that of the lover who will not take "no" for an answer. The lover
who will take no, and goes on his way disconsolate, may live to love
another day, and everyone is content; but the one who will not have
no, who will not hear of it, nor consider it, has much to answer for
in making life a burden to himself and all around him.
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