‘You’ve hit it in one,’ she told him. And then, after a moment’s reflection, she went on: ‘It’s like being in here after that.’ She jerked her head towards the door. Then she lowered her voice. ‘This seems a funny, dingy sort of hole—funny people here too—but it’s the Ritz itself after being out there.’
‘Yes, I suppose it is.’ He didn’t want to sound dubious, but he couldn’t help wondering. He turned his glance on the impassive Miss Femm for a moment, then looked across at her brother, who was talking to Porterhouse.
‘You surprise me, sir,’ Mr. Femm was remarking, though there was no surprise but something quite different flickering in his eyes. ‘But then, I have been out of the world, you might say, for at least ten years. I never even see a newspaper now.’
‘You wouldn’t know it, then. Take my word for that,’ said Porterhouse. ‘You couldn’t come back into it. It’s a different world altogether. I’ve kept pace with it, so to speak; might even say I’ve been in front; but it’s taken me all my time.’
‘The world will be very different,’ said Mr. Femm, slowly, ‘when all the people have been cleared out of it, and not before. Men and women do not change. Their silly antics are always the same. There will always be a few clever ones, who can see a yard or two in front of their noses, and a host of fools who can see nothing, who are all befuddled, who pride themselves on being virtuous because they are incompetent or short-sighted.’
‘Something in that, p’r’aps,’ the other admitted, after a stare.
Margaret Waverton was talking to her husband. Her rather clipped and very clear voice found its way across the table. ‘But you’ll never get Muriel Ainsley to see that, Philip. It’s really astonishing how people, people with brains too, can know so little about themselves. The more I see of life, the more I’m convinced that onlookers really do see most of the game.’
‘So they do.’ Philip’s voice, dropping into a meditative bass, could be heard distinctly. ‘Only life isn’t a game, you know, and you never really feel it is except where you yourself are not concerned. That’s where the smart saying breaks down; nearly all smart sayings do break down badly. Anyhow, we ought to stop talking about life, because what we say doesn’t mean anything. What’s the use of saying it’s like this or means that, when obviously it includes both this and that and their opposites.’
‘Don’t be sententious, Philip,’ she told him. ‘You’ve said that before, too. Besides, I was talking about Muriel Ainsley.’
But they were all sententious, Penderel reflected, himself included. They were settling down very cosily. They would all start boasting soon, and if he wasn’t careful, he would be the first, though as usual he would do it topsy-turvily. It was odd how what you might call the Femmishness of the place had suddenly vanished—no, not vanished but retreated. He thought of the girl at his side. Certainly it didn’t stand much of a chance with her, this Femmishness. But perhaps it hadn’t fairly begun yet. He had a feeling that there was more to come. There was a whole night before them and it was early yet. Why, the little band wouldn’t have arrived yet at the ‘Rats and Mice.’