"Think so! I know it," yawned Kneedrock. "She doesn't care who rattles the bones, once she's had the meat."
CHAPTER XI
Things One Shouldn't Say
When the men came in after dinner that evening Mrs. Darling sat alone in a huge red satin causeuse; one of those queer, hard, tufted royal things that fashion pitched in among the wigs and powder of one past period.
She wore a gown of gray gauze with bands of beaded and jeweled fringe at corsage and knees. Few women can wear gray. Nina could, and did.
The other women were grouped near, talking, but not with her. They had not shunted her; but she had gone apart and sat so. It was her way when the time for the reappearance of the men drew near. Nobody misconstrued. They all understood.
"And yet, how she does make a party go, you know!" whispered her hostess to the duchess. "She's really quite wonderful at it."
"I like her," confessed the duchess. "She's such nice lines about her waist, too, hasn't she?"
"Y-yes," faltered Lady Bellingdown, "she's quite a picture. I do wish Nibbetts wouldn't pitch into her so. It's very nasty of him."