“Where is your young man?” went on Adelaide, taking a seat close to Judith, and noting with admiration the rich colour in her face, the wonderful brilliance of her eyes.
She felt very friendly towards the girl, who was safely out of her brother’s way, and was doing so remarkably well for herself.
Afterwards she observed to her husband: “Judith looked quite good-looking. I always say there is nothing like being engaged for improving a girl’s complexion.”
“Am I my young man’s keeper?” answered Judith lightly. “But I believe he is at Christie’s.”
“When can you come and dine with us?” went on Adelaide, who had never asked Judith to dinner before. “I will get some pleasant people to meet you. You shall choose your own night. Reuben must come as well—if he is not too jealous.”
Adelaide did not mean to be cruel. She honestly believed that before the solid reality of an engagement, such vapour as unspoken, unacknowledged feeling must at once have melted.
And Judith was beyond being hurt by her words.
“I don’t know exactly when we can come. Blanche Kemys wants us to go down there for a day or two next week. And we are half promised to Geraldine Sydenham for the week after.”
She pronounced these distinguished names thus familiarly with a secret amusement, a sense that there was really a great deal of fun to be got out of Adelaide.
Mrs. Cohen stared open-mouthed, frankly impressed.