"Well put, Hugo!" said Mrs. Heth, who held that any kind of generalization constituted good talk. She added: "Who are all these people? How would one place them?"
Canning could indicate a celebrity or two. He had bowed several times, finding acquaintances, it seemed, even in this glittering farrago. But his eyes returned to his bride-to-be, from whom he removed his gaze with reluctance to-night. She wore a dress of yellow crêpe-de-chine, with a draped arrangement of blue chiffon, which followed faithfully the long lines of her figure; and a hat of blue straw with an uncurled yellow plume. It was a beautiful dress, though mamma considered it just a thought too low, even with a handkerchief put in.
And Cally looked back at her lover and thought: Who so honored and honorable as he? He'll only be sorry that I've waited so long....
"Only," she said, aloud, "they do keep the room rather hot for the provinces, where some air is preferred. More good things to eat, Hugo? It's a collation...."
"A poor one, I'm afraid. You've touched nothing."
He dispatched an army of men to adjust electric fans, turn patent ventilators, and even to do so crude a thing as open a window.
"It is all most delicious, Hugo," reassured Mrs. Heth. "I hadn't noticed that the room was warm, either."
"My cheeks are burning. Touch my hand, Hugo. You see it's on fire."
All three looked up as a boy in buttons stood at Carlisle's elbow, and said:
"Got your party on the wire, mum."