"Pshaw! What's an invite between friends!" said Jack. "Come on, I'll blow."
Miss Culbreth was a resourceful person, and eminently self-possessed, but for once Jack had the satisfaction of putting her out of countenance. She turned indignantly to Bobo, as if to call upon him to assert himself, but seeing that she could expect no help from that stricken figure, she hung her head uncertainly. Jack led the pair of them like lambs to the slaughter to the tea room.
Passing the elevators Bobo said huskily: "Thought you were going upstairs to dress."
"I won't bother now," she said.
Jack thought: "Wouldn't leave him alone with me for a farm!"
As a tea-party, the half hour that followed was not a howling success. Bobo crouched in his chair avoiding Jack's eye like a guilty spaniel. Miriam kept her eyes down too, but for a different reason; she didn't want Jack to see the hatred that burned there. The tapering white hand trembled a little in the business of pouring tea.
The onus of keeping things going was therefore upon Jack. Something humorous in the situation excited his risibilities. He experienced a pleasant malice in making out to the others that he saw nothing out of the way. He rattled on like a youth without a care in the world. Anything furnished him with a cue.
"See that old girl in crimson velvet. The famous Mrs. Paul Towers. Used to be Mrs. Peter Vesey. Sold herself to Peter in order to buy Paul, the saying is around town. That's Paul Towers with her. Exactly half her age. Poor devil! He pays high for his meals. They say he has to turn in an itemized expense account like a traveling salesman."
"He's not the only parasite in town," remarked Miriam acidly.
Jack chuckled. "Bless your heart, no! The woods are full of us! What's a handsome young man with delightful manners and not a cent to his name going to do!"