The House of Mirth
BY
EDITH WHARTON
BOOK ONE
Chapter 1
Selden paused in surprise. In the afternoon rush of the Grand CentralStation his eyes had been refreshed by the sight of Miss Lily Bart.
It was a Monday in early September, and he was returning to his work froma hurried dip into the country; but what was Miss Bart doing in town atthat season? If she had appeared to be catching a train, he might haveinferred that he had come on her in the act of transition between one andanother of the country houses which disputed her presence after the closeof the Newport season; but her desultory air perplexed him. She stoodapart from the crowd, letting it drift by her to the platform or thestreet, and wearing an air of irresolution which might, as he surmised,be the mask of a very definite purpose. It struck him at once that shewas waiting for some one, but he hardly knew why the idea arrested him.There was nothing new about Lily Bart, yet he could never see her withouta faint movement of interest: it was characteristic of her that shealways roused speculation, that her simplest acts seemed the result offar-reaching intentions.
An impulse of curiosity made him turn out of his direct line to the door,and stroll past her. He knew that if she did not wish to be seen shewould contrive to elude him; and it amused him to think of putting herskill to the test.
“Mr. Selden—what good luck!”
She came forward smiling, eager almost, in her resolve to intercept him.One or two persons, in brushing past them, lingered to look; for MissBart was a figure to arrest even the suburban traveller rushing to hislast train.
Selden had never seen her more radiant. Her vivid head, relieved againstthe dull tints of the crowd, made her more conspicuous than in aball-room, and under her dark hat and veil she regained the girlishsmoothness, the purity of tint, that she was beginning to lose aftereleven years of late hours and indefatigable dancing. Was it reallyeleven years, Selden found himself wondering, and had she indeed reachedthe nine-and-twentieth birthday with which her rivals credited her?
“What luck!” she repeated. “How nice of you to come to my rescue!”
He responded joyfully that to do so was his mission in life, and askedwhat form the rescue was to take.
“Oh, almost any—even to sitting on a bench and talking to me. One sitsout a cotillion—why not sit out a train? It isn’t a bit hotter here thanin Mrs. Van Osburgh’s conservatory—and some of the women are not a bituglier.” She broke off, laughing, to explain that she had come up totown from Tuxedo, on her way to the Gus Trenors’ at Bellomont, and hadmissed the three-fifteen train to Rhinebeck. “And there isn’t anothertill half-past five.” She consulted the little jewelled watch among herlaces. “Just two hours to wait. And I don’t know what to do with myself.My maid came up this morning to do some shopping for me, and was to go onto Bellomont at one o’clock, and my aunt’s house is closed, and I don’tknow a soul in town.” She glanced plaintively about the station. “It IShotter than Mrs. Van Osburgh’s, after all. If you can spare the time, dotake me somewhere for a breath of air.”
He declared himself entirely at her d