“Well, then, damn it, in all the week that I had known her. I do wish you wouldn’t interrupt me, Julius!”
“I don’t interrupt you half as much as you interrupt yourself. I want to know what happened. What’s the good of gassing about the chauffeur and the color of the car?”
“Well, to me that’s all part of the picture—I suppose I can’t make it for you. The big yellow car—a three thousand wouldn’t nearly cover it nowadays, you know—and Jefferson, a tall, slim chap, dark; been a company sergeant-major—oh, damned genteel!—Lady Eunice quite out of the situation—as she would be—but—what do you call it?—a little patrician all over—and Nina—at her most stately! Over against all that—and it was rather overpowering; I can tell you I felt it—the midinette with her box walking down the drive. That girl—she didn’t look more than a girl, I swear, though I suppose she’s five-and-twenty——”
“And who were you going to lunch with?” I interrupted again. I could not help it. I think that I laughed, shortly and rather harshly. A ridiculous little impasse it seemed for him. He had told his story clumsily, but somehow he had brought the scene before my eyes. Memory helped me, I imagine; it put more into the figure swinging down the drive, more into her stately ladyship seated in that challenging, possibly too showy, yellow car. “Which of them did you lunch with?” I laughed on the question, but I was rather excited.
He had stopped smoking; he sat in a rather odd attitude—upright, with his legs so close together that they left only just room for him to thrust his hands, held together as if he were saying his prayers, between them just above the knees.
“After all—was it a matter of so much importance? A lunch!” I mocked.
He didn’t pay attention to that, and he did not change his position. “Then Nina saw her. Things are funny. She’d come on purpose to see her, of course. Still, when she did, her mouth suddenly went stiff—you know what I mean? She didn’t move, though; it was just her mouth. And I stood there like a fool—actually with one foot on the ground and one on the step of the car, I believe; and Jefferson stifling another yawn beside me!
“Donna Lucinda came through the gate of the drive and up to where the car was standing; it was sideways on to the gate; Lady Eunice sat on the side near the gate, I was on the other side, with Nina between us. Lucinda seemed to see Eunice first, and to recognize her; she made a very slight formal little bow—as she would to a customer. The next second her eyes fell on Nina and on me. She stopped short, just by the car. Her cheeks flushed a little, and she gave a little low exclamation—‘Oh!’ or ‘Ah!’—I hardly heard it. Then, ‘It’s Nina!’ That was hardly louder. I just heard it. Eunice, of course, must have and Nina; I doubt whether Jefferson could. Then she gave a queer little laugh—what you’d call a chuckle coming from an ordinary person—as if she were laughing to herself, inwardly amused, but not expecting anybody else to share her amusement. She didn’t look a bit put out or awkward. But the next moment she smiled directly at me—across the other two—and shook her head—sympathizing with me in my predicament, I think.
“Nina made her a stately bow. She was very dignified, but a little flushed too. She looked somehow disturbed and puzzled. It seemed as if she really were shocked and upset to see Lucinda like that. The next moment she leant right across Eunice, throwing out her hand towards the bandbox that Lucinda was carrying.
“‘Surely there’s no need for you to do that?’ she said, speaking very low. ‘And—I hope you’re better?’