'Why, that was just lovely of you,' said Mrs. Palmer, as she moved to Amelie's side at the tea-table, and went on in a loud aside, as Gallio engaged Mr. Palmer in conversation. 'Dearest child,' she said, 'you look simply too sweet. And I've lost my heart to Lord Bolton. I think he's just lovely, with his white hair and all—just the old nobleman I used to dream about before I married Lewis. Now, give me some tea, poured out with your own hands at your own house, you darling Countess of Keynes. Well, I'm sure, I'm just crazy with pleasure!'
Mrs. Palmer flowed on in a shrill and equable torrent of conversation. Her particular timbre of voice made talking in her vicinity as difficult as talking in a rail way-tunnel, for it echoed and reverberated in a manner which rendered all else inaudible.
'I read all about your presentation in the New York Herald,' she went on—'"the new American beauty, the young and charming Countess of Keynes"; and you'll laugh, Amelie, but I ordered a special edition with all about you printed in gilt letters, and just flooded Newport with the copies. I guess Newport will find it as hard to beat you as it did to beat the pearl-party. Newport will just curl up and die; I guess you've done for Newport. And there's one thing I want to ask: Do I, Lord Bolton, take any rank as mother of a countess? I could find nothing about it in your Debrett.'
Gallio turned to her with his most courtly air.
'Ah, Mrs. Palmer,' he said, 'we have no rank in England to equal that which a charming and beautiful woman enjoys in her own right.'
The famous cry resounded over the lawns, and beat in echo against the house.
'Why, if that isn't just too sweet of you!' she cried. 'Lewis, here's Lord Bolton saying such things to me as you never thought of saying. And where's Reggie Armstrong? Reggie, did you hear what Lord Bolton said? You did, though you pretend you didn't. You're just green with jealousy. I can see the greenness reflected on your strawberries. Well, I never!'
Sybil Massington and others had arrived already, and the assembled party, some fifteen or sixteen, were now all gathered on the lawn, drinking tea and eating strawberries with a slight air of constraint, as if social thunder of some kind was in the air. Bertie, who had been receiving his guests indoors and bringing them out, was in a low chair just opposite Mrs. Palmer, listening with rather less than half an ear to what Sybil was saying to him. Quite involuntarily, at this speech he raised a deprecating eyebrow, looked up, and caught Amelie's eye. She flushed slightly, and looked away again. Some rather heavy rejoinder on the part of Reggie Armstrong followed, and Gallio sat down opposite Bertie and Sybil.
'Charming woman,' he said in his very low, gentle voice; 'she has all the brightness of the Western civilization.'
Bertie could not help smiling, and, looking up again, caught Amelie's glance, and felt guilty. The resounding voice went on: