The poison of his suggestion flowed slowly through her mind, like a drug which stimulates and stupefies at the same time.
"You mean that I should allow Jeff—that I should connive in his——" She stopped, horror-stricken. "Oh, Cort, that was unworthy of you," she whispered.
"I mean it. They're well met—those two," he finished viciously.
Camilla held up her fingers pleadingly. "Don't speak. I forbid you." And, rising, she took up her gloves and crop from the table. "Besides," she said more lightly, "I have a suspicion that you are trying to stir up a tempest in a teapot."
"Do you mean you haven't noticed?" he insisted. "At my father's? At the Warringtons'? Last night at the Janneys'?"
"No," she replied carelessly, "I hadn't noticed."
Curtis Janney, who had been moving fussily from one group to another, came forward as he saw Camilla rise.
"I was hoping we might still get another short run, but I suppose you're too tired, Mrs. Wray?"
"A little—but don't let me interfere. I think I can find my way back."
He looked at his watch. "Hello! It's time we were off anyway. The other guests will be eating all our breakfast. Come, Cort, Gretchen, Mrs. Cheyne—you know you're my guest still," strolling from group to group and ruthlessly breaking up the tête-a-têtes so successfully that Rita Cheyne rebelled.