The subconscious mind of Pamela projects on these occasions, I think, something of this kind:
“The girlish figure dominated the room. Magnetism vibrated in every gesture of the slim hands, every glance from the brilliant eyes, every modulation of the rather deep voice. She held them all, by sheer force of personality. The peacock-blue folds of her dress, with its girdle of barbaric, coloured stones....”
The bit about the dress, of course, varies. Sometimes the folds may be saffron-yellow, and the girdle opalescent, or there is no girdle at all; and anyhow, in those particulars, the same effect is never repeated twice. But I imagine that, like all women, she makes a point to herself of the accoutrements, not realising that the audience—almost altogether composed of men—attribute the entire effect to the sheer, smooth slope of her shoulders, the alluring curves of her mouth, the rich swell of her breasts beneath semi-transparencies.
The impression that inwardly she is projecting really does reflect itself on to the minds of most people, I believe.
It is only slightly distorted, even in my own version of it, which runs something like this:
“The girlish figure dominated the room. Animal magnetism vibrated in every gesture” ... and so on—only leaving out the brilliancy of the eyes and the deepness of the voice, both of them rather cheap accessories to a pose that really is quite strong enough without them—to the end:
“She held them all, by sheer will-to-dominate.”
Pamela, being a brilliant talker, prefers always to talk personalities.
Two nights ago, sitting on that cushioned rail that runs round the fireplace, she recounted an adventure.
“... Only it’s the spiritual adventure that I’m telling all of you. Because you’ll understand. The other part was all obvious, the danger and all that. You’ve probably seen it in the papers.”