The Wrong Bachelor epub vk download

"Perhaps, Rollo," said my sister (Caroline Butterfield, spinster), "you would like to go on to your club, and call for me in an hour or so. There will only be women, I expect."

"Carrie," I replied, "your consideration does you credit; but no company that you may enter is too bad for me. I insist on accompanying you. It is my first duty as a brother."

Carrie laughed.

"I believe you like it, Rol," she said. "Molly Chatterton says Loring says you never go to a club if you can have tea with a married woman."

"It is the one reward of a blameless reputation," I replied; "but that Loring Chatterton should say so is rank ingratitude, considering his own ante-nuptial record. Rank ingratitude."

We dismounted together at Millicent Dixon's door, and were admitted to the hall. Carrie gave my necktie an attentive little tug, slapped my cheek (Carrie is justly proud of her middle-aged brother, and likes to show him off to advantage), and preceded me into Millie Dixon's drawing-room. Some half-dozen ladies were engaged in the usual five-o'clock flirtation with tea and cake, and contributing to the feminine hum which didn't subside in the least as we entered.

"He would come, Millie," said Caroline, after a cross-over kiss on both cheeks, "but you can lean him up in a corner and give him some tea to keep him quiet."

This from my own flesh and blood!

Millie Dixon gave me a laughing nod over her shoulder, and busied herself preparing the cup that should have the effect Carrie suggested. I sat down, and composed myself to listen to the restful chatter that was supposed not to interest me. Mrs. Loring Chatterton, at my side, was rippling gently on the subject of a School of Art Needlework Exhibition, while Carrie and Mrs. Carmichael talked Marshall and Snelgrove to Cicely Vicars and Mrs. Julian Joyce. I have no disdain for ladies' babble-it is quite as entertaining as starting-price and stock-exchange gossip, and much prettier. But I couldn't get Chatterton's remark out of my mind.

"Cream or lemon, Mr. Butterfield?" called Miss Dixon from the other side of the room.

"Yes, if you please," I answered absently, while Miss Dixon looked a deprecating query as to when I should be sensible. I roused, and turned to Mrs. Loring Chatterton.

"Where is Loring to-day?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't know," she replied. "I told him I shouldn't want him this afternoon, so he said he would count the dreary hours till joy returned. I expect he went to count them at some club."

"Loring always was ardent," I remarked, looking meditatively into my cup. "I seem to remember that kind of thing from Loring before. Long before you knew him, Mrs. Chatterton."

"What do you mean, Mr. Butterfield?"

"Nothing, my dear Mrs. Chatterton," I replied. "Nothing out of the way. But you don't suppose that Loring had the good fortune to happen on the perfect gem without-what shall I say?-preliminary prospecting?"

Mrs. Chatterton and I are old friends. She laughed.

"Do you think you can make me inquisitive, Mr. Butterfield? I know all about that. Why, I made Loring tell me every--"

It was my turn to laugh.

"Then there is nothing more to say," I answered. "Loring is my friend-he has claims upon me. He has, doubtless, given himself quite away, and half his bachelor friends into the bargain. I think I see him doing it. Isn't that a pretty gown Carrie is wearing? I chose it for her."

"Loring told me a great deal," said Mrs. Chatterton musingly.

"The buttons are from her grandmother's wedding-gown."

"And he was so clumsy and boyish," she continued.

Words were superfluous. I smiled.

"Anyway," Mrs. Loring went on, "I don't think it fair. Men have half a dozen flirtations before they are married their wives know nothing about."

"And women, Mrs. Chatterton?" I asked.