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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"The Woman with the Fan"

"
"Ah!"
"And you, Carey?"
"I! I think if the shell is a beautiful shell and becomes suddenly broken
it makes a devil of a lot of difference in what most people think of the
kernel."
"It wouldn't to me."
"I think it would."
"You take Viola's side then?"
"And when did I ever do anything else? I'm off."
He got up, nodded good-night, and was gone in a moment. Pierce heard him
singing in a deep voice as he went down the stairs, and smiled with a
faint contempt.
"How odd it is that nobody will believe a man if he's fool enough to hint
at the truth of his true self," he thought. "And Carey--who's so clever
about people!"

CHAPTER III
WHEN the last guest had grimaced at her and left the drawing-room, Lady
Holme stood with her hand on the mantelpiece, facing a tall mirror. She
was alone for the moment. Her husband had accompanied Mrs. Wolfstein
downstairs, and Lady Holme could hear his big, booming voice below,
interrupted now and then by her impudent soprano. She spoke English with
a slight foreign accent which men generally liked and women loathed. Lady
Holme loathed it. But she was not fond of her own sex. She believed that
all women were untrustworthy. She often said that she had never met a
woman who was not a liar, and when she said it she had no doubt that, for
once, a woman was speaking the truth. Now, as she heard Mrs. Wolfstein's
curiously improper laugh, she frowned.


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