Bent's bosom
and to contribute generally to the peace and comfort of the hotel. Mr. Bent's
life was not a happy one, for if Mrs. Waddy's story were true, he was, argued
his wife, untrustworthy to the last degree. If his own statement was true, his
charms of manner and conversation were so great that he needed constant
surveillance. And he received it, till he repented genuinely of his marriage
and neglected his personal appearance. Mrs. Delville alone in the hotel was
unchanged. She removed her chair some six paces toward the head of the table,
and occasionally in the twilight ventured on timid overtures of friendship to
Mrs. Bent, which were repulsed.
"She does it for my sake," hinted the Virtuous Bent.
"A dangerous and designing woman," purred Mrs. Waddy.
Worst of all, every other hotel in Simla was full!
* * * * * *
"Polly, are you afraid of diphtheria?"
"Of nothing in the world except smallpox. Diphtheria kills, but it doesn't
disfigure. Why do you ask?"
"Because the Bent baby has got it, and the whole hotel is upside down in
consequence. The Waddy has 'set her five young on the rail' and fled. The
Dancing Master fears for his precious throat, and that miserable little woman,
his wife, has no notion of what ought to be done.
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