Aunt Clara won't come, because Mr.
Kenby's coming, and she doesn't love him a little bit."
"Neither do I, but for the sake of your society--"
"All right. I'll get the Kenbys first, and pick you up here on the way
to the park. You can take Mr. Kenby off our hands, and leave me free to
cheer up Florence."
This assignment regarding Mr. Kenby had a moderating effect on Larcher's
pleasure, both at that moment and during the drive itself. But he gave
himself up heroically to starting the elder man on favorite topics, and
listening to his discourse thereon. He was rewarded by seeing that Edna
was indeed successful in bringing a smile to her friend's face now and
then. Florence was drawn out of her abstracted air; she began to have
eyes for the scenes around her. It was a clear, cold, exhilarating
afternoon. In the winding driveways of the park, there seemed to be more
than the usual number of fine horses and pretty women, the latter in
handsome wraps and with cheeks radiant from the frosty air. Edna was
adroit enough not to prolong the drive to the stage of numbness and
melancholy. She had just ordered the coachman to drive home, when the
rear of the carriage suddenly sank a little and a wheel ground against
the side. Edna screamed, and the driver stopped the horses. People came
running up from the walks, and the words "broken axle" went round.
"We shall have to get out," said Larcher, leading the way. He instantly
helped Florence to alight, then Edna and Mr.
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