fficult husband, who has long been
a wanderer seeking spirituous consolations in out-of-the-way places of
the earth. _Robert Oldham_, a quite delightful barrister (Mr. LEONARD
BOYNE; so you will understand the "delightful"), has worshipped
_Caroline_ with an honourable fidelity for ten years, waiting patiently
for the day on which she shall be free. Well, here is the long-desired
day. Affectionate, officious friends come to congratulate each of the
pair before they meet, and each confesses to a curious chilling sense of
dread. When the embarrassing moment of the _tete-a-tete_ arrives,
_Robert_, obviously ill-at-ease and apparently more as a matter of duty
than of eager conviction, suggests that _Caroline_ shall name the day.
She gives him a blank refusal. Both affect dismay at this queer ending
of their long-deferred hopes, but eventually confess, mid peals of their
own happy laughter, their actual relief. So ends the first chapter.
A later hour of the same day finds our heroine on her sofa, languid from
the morning's emotions, and indulging in the luxury of not feeling at
all well. Her world is crumbling. She cannot do without a slave, and
_Robert_ can no longer fill quite the old _role_. Clearly a matter for
counsel with her physician and friend, _Dr. Cornish_ (Mr. DION
BOUCICAULT), who pleasantly diagnoses middle-age and prescribes a young
adorer, than which no advice could be more nicely calculated to restore
her lost feeling of queenly complacency. She sends for young _Rex
Cunningham_ (Mr. MARTIN LEWIS), a morbid egoist, who nourishes a
hopeless passion for her (and others), being well aware of the paramount
claims of _Robert_. She contrives to let him know that she is free, and
the youth, whose pet hobby is hopeless passion, at once sheers off in
alarm. _Caroline_ is learning--is beginning to understand the dark
philosophy of Mr. SOMERSET MAUGHAM. In despair she again turns to
_Robert_. They become engaged and promptly begin quarrelling about their
houses. He objects to her Futurist bathroom; she to his, which is so
like a tube station that she would bathe in constant apprehension of the
sudden appearance of a young man demanding tickets. _Robert_ begins to
assert his masculine rights to control these and sundry matters. She
realises (oh, venerable gag of the cynics!) that the fetters which would
unite their bodies would put a barrier between their souls. The
engagement is by mutual consent declared off.
Realis
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