The clock ticked pleasantly on to five o’clock and then quite as pleasantly to 5:15. But no Mame. Lady Violet feigned surprise. Then she glanced at an imposing array of cards on the chimneypiece. Oh, yes, she remembered! This was the at-home day of the wife of an influential editor. Mame had evidently kept it in mind even if Lady Violet herself had forgotten. “She’s gone there to boost Prairie City,” said her friend with a smile. “Wherever she goes now she boosts Prairie City; and at night she boosts it in her dreams.”
A quarter past five already! Elmer Pell Dobree rose with a start. At 5:30—Lady Violet must really excuse him—he was due in Aldwych to orate to the Journalists’ Circle on the Coming of the American Novel. He was sorry to go, but Mame had fixed that on him at about twelve hours’ notice, and as his good fairy declared it would mean another edition, he supposed he must stand up, a hero, and face it.
“You must.” Lady Violet had what Elmer privately described as a Gioconda smile. Here was guile, here was subtlety or the author of Prairie City was not a judge of such matters. How intriguing she was. Gee! she had a power of making your blood course quicker.
“I’ve one favour to ask, Lady Violet.” Elmer was moving to the door. “Can you and Mame spare to-morrow evening to dine with me quietly at the Savoy?”
Lady Violet took up a little red book from the writing table. A glance revealed that by the courtesy of providence to-morrow night was free. She could not answer for Mame, but to the best of her recollection there was reason to think the little go-getter would not be in action that evening.
So then it was arranged, a little dinner, just the three of them, for the next evening, which was so providentially free, at the convenient hour of eight. Unless, of course, Mame, which somehow Lady Violet felt was hardly likely, telephoned him to the contrary.
LIV
THE little dinner was capital. In every small but considered detail it could not have been nicer. Elmer P., as the world looks for in one of his eminence, was growing to be a judge of food and wine. Also the shrewd dog knew how to choose his company. On his right sat Lady Violet, on his left was Mame. Over and beyond this pair of friends and boosters was vacancy, the limitless inane, at least so far as those three minds were concerned, although at other tables sat persons not without importance in their way.
In return for delicate food and dry champagne Elmer received high entertainment from the lively tongues of his charming guests. Both were observers of the human comedy, yet they observed it in the right way. There was nothing in their talk that was spiteful or backstairs, or beneath the dignity of human nature. Their aptness, wit, and general information, their opinions upon books, plays, music and the world at large gave the host a mental punch from the hors d’œuvres to the comice pear and the crème de menthe, for which crude liqueur both ladies confessed a partiality.
Elmer had had his triumphs, in the last week or so particularly, but frankly he doubted whether he had ever enjoyed a meal like this. It was so gay. And there was the glamour of new experience. His life had suddenly been touched to newer and finer issues.