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Anson nodded.
"Either you break it off – or I will," he said.
"What God damned business is it of yours, Hunter?"
"Don't lose your temper, Gary," said Edna nervously. "It's only
a question of showing him how absurd - "
"For one thing, it's my name that's being handed around,"
interrupted Anson. "That's all that concerns you, Gary."
"Edna isn't a member of your family."
"She most certainly is!" His anger mounted. "Why – she owes
this house and the rings on her fingers to my father's brains. When
Uncle Robert married her she didn't have a penny."
They all looked at the rings as if they had a significant bearing
on the situation. Edna made a gesture to take them from her hand.
"I guess they're not the only rings in the world," said Sloane.
"Oh, this is absurd," cried Edna. "Anson, will you listen to me?
I've found out how the silly story started. It was a maid I discharged
who went right to the Chilicheffs - all these Russians pump things out
of their servants and then put a false meaning on them." She brought
down her fist angrily on the table: "And after Robert lent them the
limousine for a whole month when we were South last winter - "
"Do you see?" demanded Sloane eagerly. "This maid got hold
of the wrong end of the thing. She knew that Edna and I were friends,
and she carried it to the Chilicheffs. In Russia they assume that if a
man and a woman - "
He enlarged the theme to a disquisition upon social relations in
the Caucasus.
"If that's the case it better be explained to Uncle Robert," said
Anson dryly, "so that when the rumors do reach him he'll know
they're not true."
Adopting the method he had followed with Edna at luncheon he
let them explain it all away. He knew that they were guilty and that
presently they would cross the line from explanation into justification
and convict themselves more definitely than he could ever do. By
seven they had taken the desperate step of telling him the truth -
Robert Hunter's neglect, Edna's empty life, the casual dalliance that
had flamed up into passion - but like so many true stories it had the
misfortune of being old, and its enfeebled body beat helplessly
against the armor of Anson's will. The threat to go to Sloane's father
sealed their helplessness, for the latter, a retired cotton broker out of