Poppet Bleecker also approached. "It is too bad, Margaret is such a dear! I would like to stop on but they tell me my maid is here. Thank you so much, dear Mrs. Austen."
The lady stood up. "But you are not all going!" They all were though. She knew it and was glad of it. The object of the dinner was achieved and achievement, however satisfactory, is fatiguing. "You too!" she successively exclaimed at Ogston and Cantillon. "And you also!" she exclaimed at Paliser, to whom, dropping her voice, she added: "If possible, remember me to him."
As they went, Verelst surveyed her. He stood against the mantel, his back to the empty grate.
Turning she saw him. "Well, what now?"
Verelst, adjusting his glasses, said, and distantly enough: "What now? No, what next?"
Mrs. Austen sat down. "Peter, if you ever loved me, don't adopt that tone."
"It is not the tone, it is the tune and the tune is yours."
"Tune? What tune? What on earth are you talking about?"
"The tune to which the dinner was set. I heard it. Margaret heard it. It knocked her out."
She raised her eyes to him, made them pathetic. "Peter, I haven't a penny."