"Did you know," he volunteered by way of conversation, "that there had been a devil of a row among the women running this show? Sis says that she understands they almost pulled one another's hair in committee over some performer that Mrs. Flint didn't think desirable. That woman and her prejudices are a scream! I'll bet it was some pretty girl caught making eyes at the old man. Well, here's looking at you!"
They all lifted their glasses. Claire's hand trembled.
After that things grew more and more confused. He was wondering what Mrs. Ffinch-Brown had found to say to her niece, and staring at Claire, when she leaned over toward him with a gesture of apology and said:
"I don't want to break up your party, Mr. Stillman, but really I think I must be going. My mother, you know.... She wasn't so well to-day. It doesn't seem right for me to stay here enjoying myself ... under the circumstances."
It had ended in their all leaving, Mrs. Forsythe pleading boredom and Edington insisting that he had planned to get home fairly early to go over his draft questionnaire.
"When you see me again, Miss Robson, it's just possible that I'll be a very grand party in uniform," Edington had announced, lightly, as they rose from the table.
In the coat-room he said to Stillman:
"You ought to go slow, Ned.... That Miss Robson is a nice girl."
"Slow? What do you mean?"
"Just what I say.... She's a nice girl, I tell you—a damned nice girl!"