"Not I," said Lloyd, who was drinking more than he needed. "If you say that immorality is conventional I'll agree with you, my dear, but morality—" and he drank some champagne, "morality! what rot!"
The others laughed, I'll admit, more at, than with him. But the conversation was sickening enough. I saw Jerry and Una shake hands and come forward and Marcia immediately turned toward them. The end of the battle was not yet, for as Una nodded in the general direction of the group in passing, Marcia spoke her name.
"Ah, Una dear. You're going?"
"I must," with a glance at her wrist watch. "It's getting late."
"What a pity. I wanted to talk to you—about the Mission."
"I'd like to, but—"
"We've just been discussing a theme that I know you're really vitally interested in."
"I?" I could see by the sudden lift of her brows that Una was now on her guard.
"Yes. You believe in women working, in woman's independence, in the New-Thought idea of unconventional morality, don't you?"
"I'm not sure what you mean."