The Argosy — page 277: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

2600 Court Netherletgh. She did not refuse—wonderful to be able to say it. She folded her hands upon her chest and sighed in resignation: too worn out to combat longer; or, perhaps, too apathetical. ‘What is it, Harriet? Not a dinner?” ‘“Oh dear no. An evening party: a crowd, I daresay. Music I think. And now I shall go and talk to Davvy about what you are to wear,” concluded Lady Harriet, escaping from the room lest there should come a tardy opposition. But Adela never made it. It seemed to her that she was quite worn out with it all; with the antagonism and the preaching, and the doctors and Harriet; well- nigh wearied to death. Davvy dressed her plainly enough; a black net robe with black trimmings; and Lady Adela quietly submitted, saying neither yes nor no. ‘Just as if she had been asleep all the while,” remarked Davvy afterwards; ‘‘as if her body had been here and her mind and senses somewhere else!” ‘Don’t let me be announced, Harriet,” pleaded Adela, as they were going along. ‘‘ Nobody cares to hear my name now. I can creep in behind you and Sir Sandy.” Mr. and Mrs. Blunt’s house was small and their company large. Lady Harriet expected a crowd, and she met with it. Adela, un- announced according to her wish, shook hands with Mrs. Blunt, and escaped into a small recess at the end of the further reception- room. It was draped off by crimson-and-gold curtains, and she sat down, thankful to be alone. She turned giddy: the noise,,the lights, the crowd unnerved her. It was so long now since she had mingled in anything of the kind. She sat on there, and began thinking whem the last time had been. It came into her memory with a rush. The last time she had made one in these large gatherings was at her own home in Grosvenor Square, not very many days before she finally left it. Ay, and the attendant circumstances also came back to her, even to the words which had passed between herself and her husband. In the bitter contempt she cherished for him, she had not chosen to inform him of the assembly she purposed having, but sent the cards out un- known to him. Not a syllable did she say, and he knew nothing about it until the night arrived and he came home to dinner. ‘What is the awning up for?” he asked of Hilson, wondering a little. ‘My lady has a large assembly to night, sir,” was the answer. ‘A large one ?” ‘Very, sir.” Mr. Grubb knitted his brow, and went on to his wife. It was not the fact of the assembly that vexed him; it was that she had not made it worth her while to inform him of it. Davvy was putting the finishing touches to her haw. How well she remembered it now; every minute particular came back to her, bit by bit: where she sat in the room—not at the dressing-glass as COMIC LOOKS, (Eo)