" And when, moved to action by certain evidences of the
Philadelphia talent which could not be misunderstood, she did make up her
mind, she resolved that the "something" should be very large and by no
means very intimate. Safety wanders in crowds.
She sent out cards for a reception, one of those affairs that begin about
eleven, are tremendous at half past, look thin at twelve, and have faded
away long before the clock strikes one.
Lord Holme hated them. On several occasions he had been known to throw
etiquette to the winds and not to turn up when his wife was giving them.
He always made what he considered to be a good excuse. Generally he had
"gone into the country to look at a horse." As Lady Holme sent out her
cards, and saw her secretary writing the words, "Miss Pimpernel Schley,"
on an envelope which contained one, she asked herself whether her husband
would be likely to play her false this time.
"Shall you be here on the twelfth?" she asked him casually.
"Why? What's up on the twelfth?"
"I'm going to have one of those things you hate--before the Arkell House
ball. I chose that night so that everyone should run away early! You
won't be obliged to look at a horse in the country that particular day?"
She spoke laughingly, as if she wanted him to say no, but would not be
very angry if he didn't. Lord Holme tugged his moustache and looked very
serious indeed.
"Another!" he ejaculated.
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