The confused, hesitating repetition of the name was taken by Mrs Strangeways for a reply in the negative.
'A charming man, and a great friend of mine—oh, a very old friend. Let me bring him.'
She rustled away, and Mrs. Rolfe sank back on to the causeuse from which she had newly risen. Quickly the hostess returned, and, in the track she made through crowded clusters of people who stood talking, there followed a gentleman of easy carriage, with handsome features and thin hair. He was looking for Alma, and as soon as his eyes perceived her, they fell. Of what Mrs. Strangeways said, Alma heard not a syllable; she bowed mechanically, clutching her fan as though in peril of a fall and this the only thing within reach; she knew that Redgrave bent solemnly, silently; and then, with sudden relief, she saw the hostess retire.
'I beg your pardon.' The voice was addressing her in a respectful undertone. 'I had no choice. I did not feel justified in saying I knew you.'
'You were quite right,' she replied coldly, her fingers now relaxed upon the fan. 'Mrs. Strangeways is a little impulsive; she gave me no opportunity of preventing the introduction.'
'Will you let me say, Mrs. Rolfe, that I am glad to have been presented to you as a stranger? I should be happy indeed if our acquaintance might begin anew.'
It was polite in terms, but sounded to Alma very like the coolest impertinence. She bent her head, ever so little. The second seat of the causeuse being unoccupied, Redgrave hereupon took possession of it. No sooner had he done so than Alma rose, let a smile of indifference just fall upon him, and lost herself amid the buzzing assembly.
Ten minutes later, Redgrave and Mrs. Carnaby were lounging in these same seats, conversing with perfect mutual intelligence. They had not met for three years, but the interval signified very little in their lives, and they resumed conversation practically at the point where it had broken off in Mrs. Frothingham's drawing-room. A tactful question assured the man of the world that Mrs. Carnaby knew nothing of certain passages at Munich and Bregenz.
'I'm afraid,' he added, 'Mrs. Rolfe has become a little reserved. Natural, no doubt.'
'She lives in a wild part of Wales,' Sibyl answered, smiling tolerantly. 'And her husband detests society.'