“You can hardly blame her,” I said; “I expect the head waiter would turn her out if she appeared in that get-up of hers. Very absurd of him, of course, but——”
I was not conscious that my eyes had wandered to Mrs. Ascher’s dress until Gorman winked at me. Fortunately Ascher noticed neither my glance nor Gorman’s wink. I had not thought of suggesting that Mrs. Briggs’ stage costume was no more daring than what Mrs. Ascher wore.
“Of course,” said Ascher, “she wouldn’t come to supper in tights. It’s her other clothes she’s thinking of. I daresay they are shabby.”
I could understand what Mrs. Briggs felt. Gorman could not. I do not think that any feeling about the shabbiness of his coat would make him hesitate about dining with an Emperor.
“I hope you won’t mind,” he said to Ascher, “but we’re going to rather a third-rate little place.”
Gorman had evidently meant to do us well in the way of supper, champagne probably. He may have had the idea that good food would soften Ascher’s heart towards the cash register scheme, but Mrs. Ascher’s insistence on meeting the Galleotti family spoiled the whole plan. We could not talk business across Mrs. Briggs, so it mattered little what sort of supper we had.
Mrs. Ascher left her seat and joined us. Tim, looking more nervous than ever, followed her at a distance.
“Take me out of this,” she said to me. “Take me out of this or I shall go mad. That dreadful band!”
She spoke in a kind of intense hiss, and I took her out at once, leaving the others to collect our hats and coats and to hunt up the Galleotti family. When we reached the entrance hall she sank into a seat. I thought she was going to faint and felt very uncomfortable. She shut her eyes and murmured in a feeble way. I bent down to hear what she was trying to say, and was relieved to find that she was asking for a cigarette. I gave her one at once. I even lit it for her as she seemed very weak. It did her good. When she had inhaled three or four mouthfuls of smoke she was able to speak quite audibly and had forgotten all about the horror of the band. Her mind went back to the Galleotti family.
“Did you notice the muscular development of those men?” she said. “I don’t think I ever saw more perfect symmetry, the tallest of the three especially. The play of his shoulder muscles was superb. I wonder if he would sit for me. I do a little modelling, you know. Some day I must show you my things. I did a baby faun just before I left London. It isn’t good, of course; but I can’t help knowing that it has feeling.”