A patient martyr in the vast London house he
had taken for his wife and cousin's amusement, he loved to escape the
loneliness of its autumn solitude or the occasional greater loneliness
of his wife's social triumphs. The handsome, thoughtful man who
sometimes appeared at the foot of his wife's table or melted away like
a well-bred ghost in the hollow emptiness of her brilliant receptions,
piqued the languid curiosity of a few. A distinguished personage, known
for his tactful observance of convenances that others forgot, had made a
point of challenging this gentlemanly apparition, and had followed it up
with courteous civilities, which led to exchange of much respect but no
increase of acquaintance. He had even spent a week at Buckenthorpe, with
Canterbridge in the coverts and Lady Canterbridge in the music-room and
library. He had returned more thoughtful, and for some time after
was more frequent in his appearances at home, and more earnest in his
renewed efforts to induce his wife to return to America with him.
"You'll never be happy anywhere but in California, among those common
people," she replied; "and while I was willing to share your poverty
THERE," she added dryly, "I prefer to share your wealth among civilized
ladies and gentlemen.
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