ugh.
"He seemed a very decent sort of chap."

Maxwell lighted a cigarette. His voice was a trifle unenthusiastic as he
replied.

"So I am informed."

A few days later I arrived at Lexington and Weighborne, who met me at
the station with his car, announced that I was to go to his home on the
Frankfort turnpike. But at this arrangement I balked. Despite a certain
curiosity to see his wife, the lady who had left such a melancholy
impress on the heart of my friend, there were considerations which
outweighed curiosity. My own peculiar afflictions bore more heavily on
me than those of my acquaintances and I had no yearning for the effort
of socializing.

So Weighborne protestingly drove me to the Ph[oe]nix, and armed me with
a visitor's card to the Lexington Union Club. I could see that he was
deeply absorbed. His mind was so tensely focused on coal and timber
development that it was difficult for him to think of other matters. My
apathy lagged at the prospect of following his untiring energy over
hours of close application to detail. I would put it off until
to-morrow. Yet I had hardly taken my seat at table in the dining-room of
the Ph[oe]nix, when a page called me to the telephone booth and
Weighborne's voice came through the transmitter.

"Hullo, old man, did I drag you away from food? Sorry, but there are
some papers here I'd like mighty well to have you look over. I might
bring them in, but if you don't mind running out it would be better."

Of necessity I assented.

"I'll have my chauffeur call for you at 8:30," he arranged, "and
meanwhile I'll be getting things into shape here. By the way"--his voice
took on a reassuring note--"you sidestepped my rooftree this evening,
and I gathered that you were not in the mood for meeting people."

I murmured some insincere assurance to the contrary, which did not
beguile him.

"We shall have the house quite to ourselves," he said. "All the family
are flitting off to a dance at the Country Club."

An hour later his car turned in at a stone gate, and up a long
maple-lined avenue. From the windows of a generously broad, colonial
mansion came a cheery blaze of light, throwing shadows outward from the
tall white columns at the front. I could not help thinking of Maxwell's
lodgings in Washington Square, and reflecting that, all prejudice aside,
the flower of his worship had not chosen so badly in transplanting
herself here.

Weighborne met me at the entrance of a hall ove