The car careened through the streets, the figure of the unresponsive Hand mocked her cries for help, the neat hard face of the stranger continued to bend over her.  Then everything swam in a maelstrom of duller and duller sense, the world grew darker and fainter, till finally it was lost in silence.

CHAPTER II

HAMBLETON OF LYNN

The Hambletons of Lynn had not distinguished themselves, in late generations at least, by remarkable deeds, though their deportment was such as to imply that they could if they would.  They frankly regarded themselves as the elect of earth, if not of Heaven, always, however, with a becoming modesty.  Since 1636 the family had pieced out its existence in the New World, tenaciously clinging to many of its old-country habits.  It had kept the b in the family name, for instance; it had kept the name itself out of trade, and it had indulged its love of country life at the expense of more than one Hambleton fortune.

A daughter-in-law was once reported as saying that it would have been a good thing if some Hambleton had embarked in trade, since in that case they might have been saved from devoting themselves exclusively to an illustration of polite poverty.  She was never forgiven, and died without being reconciled to the family.  As to the spelling of the name, the family claimed ancestral authority as far back as King Fergus the First.  Mrs. Van Camp, a relative by marriage—­a woman considered by the best Hambletons as far too frank and worldly-minded—­informed the family that King Fergus was as much a myth as Dido, and innocently brought forth printed facts to corroborate her statement.  One of the ladies Hambleton crushed Mrs. Van Camp by stating, in a tone of deep personal conviction, with her cap awry, “So much the worse for Dido!”

A salient strength persisted in the Hambletons—­a strength which retained its character in spite of cross-currents.  The Hambleton tone and the Hambleton ideas retained their family color, and became, whether worthily or not, a part of the Hambleton pride.  More than one son had lost his health or entire fortune, which was apt not to be large, in attempts to carry on a country place.  “A Hambleton trait!” they chuckled, with as much satisfaction as they considered it good form to exhibit.  In Lynn, where family pride did not bring in large returns, this phrase became almost synonymous with genteel foolishness.

The Van Camp fortune, which came near but never actually into the family, was generally understood to have been made in shoes, though in reality it was drugs.

“People say ‘shoes’ the minute they hear the word Lynn, and I’m tired of explaining,” Mrs. Van Camp put it.  She was third in line from the successful druggist, and could afford, if anybody could, to be supercilious toward trade.  But she wasn’t, even after twenty years of somewhat restless submission to the Hambleton yoke.  And it was she who, during her last visit to the family stronghold, held up before the young James the advantages of a commercial career.