“And two fine children,” put in Robert.
“No! You don't mean it!” said Jim. “Who's your husband? Anybody?”
“Rather!” came the deep voice of Clariss. “He sees to that.”
Jim stared, grinning, showing his pointed teeth, reaching nearer and nearer to Clariss who, in her frail scrap of an evening dress, amethyst and silver, was sitting still in the deep black hearth-rug, her arm over Julia's knee, taking very little notice of Jim, although he amused her.
“I like you awfully, I say,” he repeated.
“Thanks, I'm sure,” she said.
The others were laughing, sprawling in their chairs, and sipping curacao and taking a sandwich or a cigarette. Aaron Sisson alone sat upright, smiling flickeringly. Josephine watched him, and her pointed tongue went from time to time over her lips.
“But I'm sure,” she broke in, “this isn't very interesting for the others. Awfully boring! Don't be silly all the time, Jim, or we must go home.”
Jim looked at her with narrowed eyes. He hated her voice. She let her eye rest on his for a moment. Then she put her cigarette to her lips. Robert was watching them both.
Josephine took her cigarette from her lips again.