“Oh! I’ll find room. There isn’t such a crush as all that.”
“Well, you can take the ladies. There’s a limit to human endurance... a drink will satisfy me.”
“We shall have to go,” Mrs Smythe said, slipping a gloved hand within Mrs Lawless’ arm. “When I have determined people to deal with I never argue. It is so much less trouble to give in.”
Van Bleit conducted his party to the supper-room, and found seats for three at a table near the door.
“What a pity Theo didn’t come,” Mrs Smythe remarked, with a glance at the vacant chair on her right.
She looked round the crowded room and nodded to several acquaintances. There was a confusion of sound that yet was not noisy,—the hum of talk and laughter, the frequent popping of champagne corks, a soft continuous rustle of movement, and the clatter of knives and forks. She glanced smilingly across Van Bleit, who was trying to catch the attention of a waiter, to where Mrs Lawless sat, leaning forward looking away from her towards the next table.
“Zoë, the sight of all these people feeding makes me hungry,” she said.
“Of course you’re hungry,” Van Bleit responded. “You can’t sit up all night on nothing.”
But Mrs Lawless apparently did not hear. She was gazing with unconscious intensity at a man at the table on the opposite side of the opening. He had his face towards her; but he had seen her entry, and, having watched her while he could do so unobserved, he now gave his undivided attention to the girl beside him.
Mrs Lawless regarded the girl with critical interest. There was nothing especially remarkable about her in any way. She was young and fresh-looking, and wore a simple white frock, and a pearl necklace the beads of which were of a size to open up doubts as to their genuineness in an inquiring mind. Mrs Lawless did not question the pearls; she accepted them, as she accepted the peerless youth of the wearer, as parts of a whole the effect of which was pleasing.