“Not what I should call a vivacious man,” said Mangles, looking dismally across the room. “There was a sort of ripple on his serene calm as he came in perhaps.”
“Yes,” said Deulin, in a low voice. “That is bad. There is usually something wrong when Cartoner is lively. He is making an effort, you know.”
They went towards the others, Deulin leading the way.
“What beautiful violets,” said he to Netty. “Surely Warsaw did not produce those?”
“Yes, they are pretty,” answered Netty, making a little movement to show the flowers to greater advantage to Deulin and to Cartoner also. Her waist was very round and slender. “They came from that shop in the Senatorska or the Wirzbowa, I forget, quite, which street. Ulrich, I think, was the name.”
And she apparently desired to let the subject drop there.
“Yes,” said Deulin, slowly. “Ulrich is the name. And you are fond of violets?”
“I love them.”
Deulin was making a silent, mental note of the harmless taste, when dinner was announced.
“It was I who recommended Netty to investigate the Senatorska,” said Mr. Mangles, when they were seated. But Netty did not wish to be made the subject of the conversation any longer. She was telling Cartoner, who sat next to her, a gay little story, connected with some piece of steamer gossip known only to himself and her. Is it not an accepted theory that quiet men like best those girls who are lively?