VII
FROTHINGHAM had gone direct to his apartment. “Get my traps together at once,” he said to his man—Hutt, whose father had been his father’s man. He threw himself into a chair in his sitting room, and tried to think, to plan. But he was still dazed from the long fall and the sudden stop. Presently Hutt touched him.
“Well—well—what is it?” he asked, looking stupidly up at the round, stupid face.
“Beg pardon, my lord,” replied the servant, “but Hi’ve spoke to you twice. Mrs. Hollister wishes to know hif you’ll kindly come to ’er in ’er sitting room.”
Frothingham found Mrs. Hollister’s maid waiting for him in the hall. He followed her to the heavily perfumed surroundings of pale blue silk, both plain and brocaded, in which Mrs. Hollister lived. He listened to her without hearing what she said—thinking of it afterward he decided that she had been incoherent and not very tactful, and that her chief anxiety had been lest he might do something to cause scandal. He remembered that when he had said he would go at once she had tried to persuade him to stay—as if leaving were not the only possible course. He gradually recovered his self-command, and through weakness, through good nature, through contempt of his hosts, and through policy, he acted upon the first principle of the code for fortune-hunters of every degree and kind: “Be near-sighted to insults, and far-sighted to apologies.”
Surveying the wreck from his original lodgings at the Waldorf, he found three mitigations—first, that the engagement had not been announced; second, that he had not written Evelyn anything about it; third, that it was impossible for “middle-class people” such as the Hollisters to insult him—“if I wallow with that sort, I can’t expect anything else, can I?” To cheer himself he had several drinks and took an account of stock. He found he was ninety-three pounds richer than when he landed—he played “bridge” well, and had been in several heavy games at Lake-in-the-Wood, and had been adroit in noting the stupid players, and so arranging partners that he could benefit by them; also he had been lucky in a small way at picking the numbers at Canfield’s the few times he had trusted himself to go there. “Not so bad,” he said. “It’s a long game, and that was only the first hand.” He hesitated at the indicator, then instead of ordering another drink went to the telephone and called up Longview’s house. It gave him courage, and a sense that he was not altogether friendless and forlorn, to hear Honoria’s voice again. “Shall you be in late this afternoon?” he asked.
“Why! I didn’t know you were in town—or are you calling me from Catherine’s?”
“Yes—I’m in town,” he replied, and he felt that she must notice the strain in his voice.