The Relentless CityBenson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
General
The Relentless City
Benson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
British -- United States -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Upper class -- Fiction
The Relentless City
By
E. F. Benson
Author of 'Mammon & Co.,' etc.
London
William Heinemann
1903
CHAPTER I
The big pink and white dining-room at the Carlton was full to
suffocation of people, mixed odours of dinner, the blare of the band
just outside, and a babel of voices. In the hall theatre-goers were
having their coffee and cigarettes after dinner, while others were
still waiting, their patience fortified by bitters, for their parties
to assemble. The day had been very hot, and, as is the manner of days
in London when June is coming to an end, the hours for most people here
assembled had been pretty fully occupied, but with a courage worthy of
the cause they seemed to behave as if nothing of a fatiguing nature
had occurred since breakfast. The band played loud because it would
otherwise have been inaudible above the din of conversation, and people
talked loud because otherwise nobody could have heard what anybody else
said. To-night everybody had a good deal to say, for a case of the kind
that always attracts a good deal of attention had just been given that
lengthy and head-lined publicity which is always considered in England
to be inseparable from the true and indifferent administration of
justice, and the vultures of London life found the banquet extremely to
their taste. So they ate their dinner with a sense of special gaiety,
pecked ravenously at the aforesaid affair, and all talked loudly
together. But nobody talked so loud as Mrs. Lewis S. Palmer.
It was said of her, indeed, that, staying for a week-end not long ago
with some friend in the country, rain had been expected because one day
after lunch a peacock was heard screaming so loud, but investigation
showed that it was only Mrs. Palmer, at a considerable distance away
on the terrace, laughing. Like the peacock, it is true, she had been
making _la pluie et le beau temps_ in London this year, so the mistake
was accountable. At present, she was entertaining two young men at an
ante-opera dinner. A casual observer might have had the impression
that she was clothed lightly but exclusively in diamonds. She talked,
not fast, but without pause. She was in fact what may be called a
long-distance talker: in an hour she would get through much more than
most people.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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