She was smiling upon the man who approached, beckoning to him to come with her eyes, as women sometimes do. She turned sharply upon Harkness, her attention caught by something in his voice.
“Yes?” she answered.
Harkness had risen with a clatter of his sword on the polished floor, and stood awaiting the introduction.
“My husband—Admiral Harkness.”
The men bowed, and, before they could exchange a banal observation, the fair young man who had been called away came up.
“Phew, this is worse than Simla,” he said; then, offering his arm to Lady Storrel, “Alice,” he continued, “I have discovered some ices, THE most lovely ices.”
They moved away, the lady favouring Harkness with a little nod, leaving the two tallest men in that assembly facing each other.
When they were gone, Caleb S. Harkness and Lord Storrel looked into each other's eyes.
“So,” said Harkness, lapsing suddenly into a twang, “she waited.”
The other nodded. He raised his perfectly gloved hand to his moustache, which he tugged pensively to either side.