“That sounds as if she would get fat,” said Stefan, with a shudder.
“Doesn't it?” agreed Mrs. Elliot. “But she's as slim as a panther, and intensely alive nervously, for all her physical laziness.”
“Do you like her?” Mary asked.
“Yes, I really do, though she's terribly rude, and I tell her I'm convinced she's a dangerous person. She gives me a feeling that gunpowder is secreted somewhere in the room with her. I will get her here to meet you both—you would be interested. She's never free in the afternoon; we'll make it an evening.” With a confirming nod, Mrs. Elliot rose to greet some newcomers.
“Mary,” Stefan whispered, “we'll go and order you a dress from this person. Wouldn't that be fun?”
“How sweet of you, dearest, but we can't afford it,” replied Mary, surreptitiously patting his hand.
“Nonsense, of course we can. Aren't we going to be rich?” scoffed he.
“Look who's coming!” exclaimed Mary suddenly.
Farraday was shaking hands with their hostess, his tall frame looking more than ever distinguished in its correct cutaway. Almost instantly he caught sight of Mary and crossed the room to her with an expression of keen pleasure.
“How delightful,” he greeted them both. “So you have found the presiding genius of the district! Why did I not have the inspiration of introducing you myself?” He turned to Mrs. Elliot, who had rejoined them. “Two more lions for you, eh, Constance?” he said, with a twinkle which betokened old friendship.