I don’t exactly know how it came to pass, but my cavalier good-naturedly relinquished me, and I presently found myself walking away in company with Captain Falkland. As we passed down a corridor I saw approaching a rather striking pair, a tall man in uniform and a tall girl in white. As we came nearer I discovered, with a mental start, that the couple were ourselves!
“I had no idea it was a mirror,” I exclaimed. “I thought we were meeting two strangers.”
“Yes, a study in gold and silver,” he replied, referring to the gold on his uniform and the silver on my dress. “Now that we have seen ourselves as others see us, what is your opinion?”
I found this question rather embarrassing, and made no reply, but I could not help recognising the fact that we had made an effective picture.
The supper-room proved to be crowded; it looked as if every chair and every knife and fork were in use. After steering me through blocks of guests and waiters my partner managed to secure two places by squeezing in at the corner of a table occupied by a large and noisy party, including Mrs. Potter; by bad luck Captain Falkland’s seat was next to hers. I say “bad luck,” as I knew they were as inimical to one another as cat and dog. He was never to be seen in her train. For her part, if she found an opening for giving him a nasty thrust she did not overlook it. It was her openly expressed opinion that “he was a shockingly bad A.D.C., and totally wanting in manners and tact.” Fortunately this verdict was not supported by the station.
As we talked together of trivial matters I was aware that all the time Mrs. Potter, though ostensibly carrying on a conversation with her neighbour, was listening to every word we said and only waiting for an opportunity to burst into our tête-à-tête. Presently she made an intrusive remark, and instantly she and my partner began to spar. I did not take any share in the conflict, but talked to a major in the Tea-Green Lancers, who was on my left—a most amusing neighbour, and the best amateur actor in southern India. As we talked and chaffed I found myself enacting the rôle of Mrs. Potter, and endeavouring to overhear what she and Captain Falkland were talking about. Their voices were low, and among scores of other tongues and the crash of the band near by I was not particularly successful. I gathered that repeatedly he attempted to cut short her flow of speech, but such efforts were paralysed by her tireless volubility. At last her companions began to move; they were giving parting toasts. Turning to my friend with lifted champagne glass I heard Mrs. Potter say:
“Come now, a pledge, Captain Falkland!”
“All right then, I will,” he answered in a tone of angry decision, and lifting his glass and looking her full in the face I distinctly heard:
“Here’s to the light that lies in woman’s eyes!
And lies—and lies—and lies!”