“Yes. I hate maids. It’s very jolly being alone.”
“You had better get one at once. You don’t want to identify yourself with the horrid women who run about alone and put up at hotels and drink whiskies and talk horse. There are some women of the nicest families in England who do that kind of thing now,—are very free. But we Americans cannot afford to go so far.”
“Couldn’t you join me this winter,” Mrs. Wilbur suggested mischievously, “and keep house in Florence? The proprieties would be appeased then.”
“No, no,—not possibly, ma sœur.” Walter Anthon twisted his moustache rapidly.
“Well, then, you mustn’t offer advice.”
“My dear sister,” Anthon seized his vanishing chance, “you will not be so distressingly vulgar as to put yourself in the way of further—relations with Erard, I—”
This iteration of Erard from one end of America to Europe stirred Mrs. Wilbur’s wrath. “I don’t know where Mr. Erard will be this winter. I am not in communication with him. But if he should care for my society, I should certainly see him.” After a moment she added maliciously, to throw oil on the fire, “And the considerations you mention would not prevent me from doing more.”
Walter Anthon rose majestically. “We should cut you, every one.”
“Remember that I am still Mrs. Wilbur, legally at least,” she retorted. Then forgetting her resentment, she continued in a friendly tone. “Walter, why shouldn’t we be frank with one another? I shall not spoil your little game in London. Yon won’t find me a social burden. I don’t give a penny for your prejudices, but it may comfort you to know that I am waiting for an old friend to join me. Now let us be good acquaintances. Don’t feel called upon to meddle with my leaving John. You will not have to suffer for that. And I don’t believe that you have any, even romantic grounds, for sorrowing over my morals. Your own will probably keep you busy. Come and see me when I am settled. If you don’t like the tone of my establishment, keep away. We really haven’t enough in common to quarrel about. Now take some tea.” She rang the bell and stood opposite him to laugh.
Walter Anthon took his tea amicably. “Who is the friend?”