"She will call in due form. I assure you she understands the conventions. Of course, you need not see her, but she will leave a card. Not that it wouldn't be quite proper for me merely to take you."
"I should prefer that she called. Then—yes, I should like to go. Thank you."
The men arrived with the entrée and departed with the soup plates.
Once more he had an inspiration.
"Poor old Dinwiddie's laid up with the gout."
"Really? He called a day or two after the dinner, and I enjoyed hearing him talk about the New York of his youth—and of Mary's. Unfortunately, I was out when he called again. But I have seen Mr. Osborne twice. These are his flowers. He also sent me several books."
"What were they?" growled Clavering. He remembered with dismay that he hadn't even sent her the usual tribute of flowers. There had been no place in his mind for the small amenities.
"A verboten romance called 'Jurgen.' Why verboten? Because it is too good for the American public? 'Main Street.' For me, it might as well have been written in Greek. 'The Domesday Book.' A great story. 'Seed of the Sun.' To enlighten me on the 'Japanese Question.' 'Cytherea.' Wonderful English. Why is it not also verboten?"
"Even censors must sleep. Is that all he sent you?"
"I am waiting for the chocolates—but possibly those are sent only by the very young men to the very young girls."