“You’re too clever to stay alive, my pet,” said Mrs Stevanson. She hoped that none of her other guests were overhearing this. Most of them were quite worldly but a few weren’t and it would never do to have them hear him.
“I must ...” began Mrs Stevanson moving slowly away.
“So nice to have met you,” said the small Greek named Timon.
“The pleasure ...” murmured Mrs Stevanson.
Lewis waved to her. “I shall see you later, Helena.” Mrs Stevanson wondered irritably why fairies had to have such unpleasant voices.
Several new arrivals were in the foyer. She recognized Mr Heywood immediately. He was passively allowing one of the footmen to take his overcoat away from him.
“Heywood dear, it was so nice of you to come.”
“It’s nice to be here, Helena.” He looked unhappily at the footman, retreating with the overcoat.
“And where is your lovely wife?” Mrs Stevanson knew perfectly well they were no longer on speaking terms.
“My wife?” Heywood became dreamy, vague and distant. “Oh, she’s not well at all.”