“I suppose you’re right, Heywood. Manners change so. She looked rather unhappy, I thought.”
“Who?”
“Mrs. Bankton.”
“Really. I didn’t notice.”
“I don’t suppose you did; men don’t notice very many things anyway,” said Mrs Stevanson, suddenly exhibiting her bitterness. She controlled herself quickly. “Except men like you, Heywood dear.”
“Thank you, Helena.” He bowed without movement; he suggested a bow without actually executing it. “Now I must really be going.”
“So soon, Heywood, so soon?”
Chapter Ten
Carla was angry with Robert Holton, angrier still with George Robert Lewis. She had hoped to have dinner alone with Holton. She wanted time to recover a past emotion and now she would have very little time. As they drove through the lighted streets she looked with dislike at Lewis’s smooth boyish face.
None of them spoke after they got into the cab outside Mrs Stevanson’s place. Lewis had given the driver an address and they had relaxed, each thinking of different things: Holton pleased to be seeing life; Lewis pleased to have secured the wife of a great figure; Carla displeased with the arrangement, Carla plotting murder.