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The Best Short Stories of 1921 and the Yearbook of the American Short Story by Various
page 47 of 818 (05%)
absent-minded, barely disturbing the lines of her beautifully modeled
red lips. Had any of Mrs. Ennis's enemies, and they were not few in
number, seen it, they would have surmised mischief afoot; had any of her
friends, and there were even more of these than enemies, been present,
they would have been on the alert for events of interest. It all
depended, you see, upon whether you considered a taste for amateur
psychology, indulged in, a wickedness or not. Mrs. Ennis herself would
not have given her favorite amusement so stately a name; she was aware
merely that she found herself possessed of a great curiosity concerning
people, particularly those of forcible and widely different
characteristics, and that she liked, whenever possible, to gather them
together, and then see what would happen. Usually something did--happen,
that is.

With the innocence of a child playing with fire-crackers (and it wasn't
altogether innocent, either), in her rĂ´le of the god in the machine she
had been responsible for many things; several comedies, perhaps a
tragedy or two. Ordinarily her parties were dull enough; complacent
Washington parties; diplomats, long-haired Senators from the West,
short-bearded Senators from the East, sleek young men and women, all of
whom sat about discussing grave nonsense concerning a country with which
they had utterly lost touch, if ever they had had any; but every now and
then, out of the incalculable shufflings of fate, appeared a combination
that seemed to offer more excitement. Tonight such a combination was at
hand. Mrs. Ennis was contented, in the manner of a blithe and beautiful
spider.

Burnaby, undoubtedly, was the principal source of this contentment, for
he was a young man--he wasn't really young, but you always thought of
him as young--of infinite potentialities; Burnaby, just back from some
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