The Man from Brodney's

by George Barr McCutcheon

Saunders, very much impressed by these confidences, bowed himself out of the room, followed by Britt, of whom he implored help in the effort to bring about a reconciliation. He was sorely distressed by Britt's apparent reluctance to compromise the case without mature deliberation.

"You see, old chap," mused Deppingham, after their departure, "matrimony is no trifling thing, after all. No matter whether it contemplates a garden in Hammersmith or an island in the South Seas, it has its drawbacks."

The charity ball began at ten o'clock, schedule time. If all of those who participated were not in perfect sympathy with the spirit of the mad whim, they at least did not deport themselves after the fashion of wet blankets. To be quite authentic, but two of the promoters were heartily involved in the travesty—Lady Agnes, whose sprightliness was never dormant, and Bobby Browne, who shone in the glamour of his first encounter with the nobility. Drusilla Browne, asserting herself as an American matron, insisted that the invitation list should include the lowly as well as the mighty. She had her way, and as a result, the bank employés, the French maids, Antoine and the two corporals of Rapp-Thorberg's Royal Guard appeared on the floor in the grand march directly behind Mr. Britt, Mr. Saunders, and Miss Pelham.

"One cannot discriminate at the charity ball," Drusilla had stoutly maintained. "The hoi polloi and the riff-raff always get in at home. So, why not here? If we're going to have a charity ball, let's give it the correct atmosphere."

"I shall feel as if I were dancing with my green grocer," lamented Lady Agnes. Later on, when the dancing was at its height, she exclaimed with all the fervour of a charmed imagination: "I feel as the Duchess de What's-her-name must have felt, Bobby, when she danced all night at her own ball, and then dressed for the guillotine instead of going to bed. We may all be shot in the morning."

The Indian fakirs and showmen gave a performance in the courtyard at midnight. They were followed by the Bedouin tumblers and the inspired Persians, who danced with frantic abandon and the ripe lust of joy. There was but one unfortunate accident. Mr. Rivers, formerly of the bank, got very tight and fell down the steps leading to the courtyard, breaking his left arm.

Lord Deppingham and Chase kept their heads. They saw to it that the watch over the grounds and about the château was strictly maintained. The former led the grand march with the Princess. She was more ravishingly beautiful than ever. Her gown, exquisitely cool and simple, suggested that indefinable, unmistakable touch of class that always marks the distinction between the woman who subdues the gown and the gown which subdues the woman.

Hollingsworth Chase was dazzled. He discovered, much to his subsequent amusement, that he was holding his breath as he stared at her from the opposite side of the banquet hall, which had been transformed into a ballroom. She had just entered with the Deppinghams. Something seemed to shout coarsely, scoffingly in his ear: "Now, do you realise the distance that lies between? She was made for kings and princes, not for such as you!"

He waited long before presenting himself in quest of the dance he hungered for so greedily—afraid of her! She greeted him with a new, brighter light in her eyes; a quiver of delight, long in restraint, came into her voice; he saw and felt the welcome in her manner.

The blood surged to his head; he mumbled his request. Then, for the first time, he was near to holding her close in his arms—he was clasping her fingers, touching her waist, drawing her gently toward his heart. Once, as they swept around the almost empty ballroom, she looked up into his eyes. Neither had spoken. His lips parted suddenly and his fingers closed down upon hers. She saw the danger light in his eyes and knew the unuttered words that struggled to his lips and stopped there. She never knew why she did it, but she involuntarily shook her head before she lowered her eyes. He knew what she meant. His heart turned cold again and the distance widened once more to the old proportions.