This reply left Mrs. Condor without any conversational lead. But she was not inclined to retreat in the face of blocked advance. "I heard somewhere," Lily lied, glibly, "that you were doing cabaret work, but of course it never dawned on me to find you in the Greek quarter. How is it—very dreadful?"
Claire waved her hand. "You can see for yourself," she said.
"Oh, I dare say it is human enough. By the way, I suppose you're very sore at me. But really, you know—"
"Sore at you! Why, my dear Mrs. Condor, I am sore at nobody. Why should I be?"
"Well, I thought perhaps.... Oh, well, what is the use of pretending? You know what I'm talking about."
"If you mean that silly tempest about the Café Chantant, please dismiss it from your mind. I've done so long ago. You were put in an awkward position and I don't blame you. You had to choose, of course, between me and your friend, Mrs. Flint. I can't fancy any sane person doing differently."
Claire had never thought she could put so much cool insolence into a speech. Lily Condor stared, fidgeted, tried to laugh. "Mrs. Flint! Well, my dear, you know as well as I do that she's impossible. I really feel sorry for Sawyer. He likes a little gaiety now and then ... just.... Well, you know what I mean!"
"Yes ... he told me all about it the night I went over to take dictation. 'No rough stuff, but a good feed, and two kinds of wine, and a cigarette with the small black.' That was the way he put it, as I remember. It all sounded very gay and exciting then. But I've seen a good deal since, and now it all strikes me as quite dull."
Mrs. Condor was measuring Claire with a puzzled air. "Claire, you're getting bitter, I'm afraid. I'm sorry to see that. I'm old enough, Heavens knows, but I try to get peevish. As a matter of fact, you played your cards all wrong. You had Ned Stillman going south. Do you know why I called you over to my table to-night?"
Claire looked at her purring adversary from head to foot. "Yes, you wanted to make sure that I wouldn't spread the news to Mrs. Flint about seeing you here—with her husband. You needn't worry. The news won't get to Mrs. Flint through me. I've got other things on my mind."