The Smart Set Part 11

_A Bill._

Mr. Fred'k Strong, Dr.

To the ---- Private Detective Agency, for services rendered, $---- --.

Rec'd payment, ---- --

Feb. 10th, 189-.

III

_A Letter from Miss Beatrice North to Richard Strong, sent by special delivery to his Club._

February 11th.

My Darling d.i.c.k:

What is the meaning of this letter from a lawyer? Who has been trying to damage my character? To ruin my happiness? Who hates me? I have never willingly harmed any one. I can't and won't believe this letter was sent with your approval. But why didn't you come to see me yesterday? My dearest in the world, you wouldn't believe evil stories of me, surely! You to whom I have told all my life, everything, for there has been nothing to hide. No, no; I am sure you don't know anything about this cruel letter, and for G.o.d's sake hurry and tell me so yourself, hurry and tell me so, and let me kiss the words as they come to your lips.

Thine,

BEATRICE.

IV

_Letter from the Same to the Same._

The evidence that you have proves nothing whatever, and even then much of it is exaggerated, which I, in my turn, can prove. I shall sue you for breach of promise.

BEATRICE NORTH.

V

_From the Same to the Same, a day later._

I will not write to your lawyers. This second letter of theirs is too insulting. They know very well they could never win the case against me.

(I am innocent; and even if I were not, your evidence is ridiculously insufficient.) And that is why they offer to "settle" with me privately.

But my own feelings have changed over night. That you could, first, believe the charges against me, and second, that you could have allowed me to be insulted by your--_or your brother's_--lawyers, as you have done, these two things have opened my eyes to your own weak contemptible character. I am grateful the discovery came before it was too late. I release you from your engagement to me, and far from bringing a suit against you I feel I owe you a debt of thanks. I trust this is a sufficient reply to your insult to "settle" privately. The matter is at end with this letter.

BEATRICE NORTH.

VI

_Headlines of a Column in a Daily New York Paper._

THE STRONG'S BALL!

ALL THE SWELLS THERE!

d.i.c.k STRONG GETS THE COLD SHOULDER FROM MOST OF HIS FRIENDS!

The Opera

_Mrs. Sternwall's Box. The First Act of Tristan and Isolde is three-quarters over. Mr. Alfred Easterfelt is seated alone in the corner. He is bored._

MR. ALFRED EASTERFELT.

(_To himself, after a long sigh._) d.a.m.n it! What did I come so early for?

(_People are heard by the entire audience entering the little ante-room behind. The men's chorus on the stage drowns the sound of artificial laughter. The curtains part, and_ Mr. Easterfelt _is joined by_ Mrs. Sternwall, Mrs. Morley, Miss Beebar, and Mr. Carn.)

MRS. MORLEY.

(_Seriously._) What a pity we've missed so much.

(_There are general greetings, whispered pleasantly. Each person, without exception, glances first all about the house, and then turns his eyes slowly toward stage. Mrs. Sternwall sits in_ _the corner, facing the audience with three-quarters face, as the photographers express it, one-quarter toward the singers and_ mise en scene. _She beckons Easterfelt to sit behind her. The others fall into the other places more or less as they happen, the women in front looking lovely, as each one is well aware, with her beautiful white neck, her jewels, and her charming coif. The music continues._)

MRS. MORLEY.

(_Suddenly noticing that Mr. Sternwall is not with them._) But where is Mr. Sternwall?

MRS. STERNWALL.

Oh, Henry always goes across to Hammerstein's Olympia during the acts, but he will join us for each of the entre-acts.

(_She takes up her opera gla.s.s, and examines the house minutely._)

MISS BEEBAR.

What is the opera?

MRS. MORLEY.

Tristan and Isolde. I don't care for the new woman; do you? Somehow she hasn't the soul for Wagner. She sings well enough, mechanically, but she doesn't feel enough.

MISS BEEBAR.

Precisely. That's a wig of course; isn't it? And what an ugly one!

MRS. STERNWALL.

(_Low to Mr. Easterfelt._) Come to-morrow at four. He has taken to leaving the office much earlier the last few days.