There were editorials on it, stories,
poems, novels, numberless volumes. It even reached the stage. Mrs.
Dyckman had left her own children to find things out for themselves.
It occurred to her that she should not make the same mistake with
the eager servants who gave the walls ears and the keyholes eyes.
It was a ferocious test of her courage, but she knew that she
would have all possible help from Wotton. He had not only been the
head steward of the family ship in countless storms, but he had an
inherited knowledge of the sufferings of homes. He had learned his
profession as page to his father, who had been a butler and the son
of a butler.
Wotton came in like a sweet old earl and waited while Mrs. Dyckman
gathered strength to say as offhandedly as if she were merely
announcing that Jim was arrested for murder:
"Oh, Wotton, I wanted to tell you that Mr. James Dyckman has
just brought us the news of his marriage."
Wotton's eyebrows went up and his hands sought each other and
whispered together as he faltered:
"Indeed, ma'am! That is a surprise, isn't it?"
"He has married a very brilliant young lady who has had great
success in--ah--in the--ah--moving pictures."
The old man gulped a moment, but finally got it down. "The moving
pictures! Indeed, ma'am! My wife and I are very fond of the--the
movies, as the saying is."
"Everybody is, isn't they--aren't they? Perhaps you have seen Miss
Anita Adair in the--er--pictures.
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