When invited
to drink, he declined in a way that left no room for the invitation
to be repeated. He never went to private entertainments except in
company with his wife, and then he rarely took any other lady to the
supper-room.
The new hope born in the sad heart of Mrs. Abercrombie had grown
stronger as the weeks and months went by. Never for so long a time
had the general stood firm. It looked as, if he had indeed gained
the mastery over an appetite which at one time seemed wholly to have
enslaved him.
With a lighter heart than usual on such occasions, Mrs. Abercrombie
made ready for the grand entertainment, paying more than ordinary
attention to her toilette. Something of her old social and personal
pride came back into life, giving her face and bearing the dignity
and prestige worn in happier days. As she entered the drawing-room
at Mr. and Mrs. Birtwell's, leaning on her husband's arm, a ripple
of admiration was seen on many faces, and the question, "Who is
she?" was heard on many lips. Mrs. Abercrombie was a centre of
attraction that evening, and no husband could have been prouder of
such a distinction for his wife than was the general. He, too, found
himself an object of interest and attention. Mr. Birtwell was a man
who made the most of his guests, and being a genuine _parvenu_, did
not fail through any refinement of good breeding in advertising to
each other the merits or achievements of those he favored with
introductions.
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