“No!”
Before the meal was over the lady with the pepper-box asked Brassid’s first name, and formally presented him, including the lady opposite. But it was only as she rose to go and swept the table with a little smiling bow that Brassid really saw her superbness.
When she had left the room he found himself still on his feet staring out of the door whence she had vanished. They caught him in a sigh.
“Sit down!” commanded the lady who took snuff.
And they kept Brassid there and bullied him till he wanted to get up and fight the lot of them man-fashion.
They informed him severally that she was an actress; that she was a widow with a deformed child of which she was ashamed; that she was a deserted wife; that she had once been married to a very wicked man of title; that she was “strange”—sat for hours on the beach alone, sang, swam, walked, did everything but flock with them.
“God bless her!” said Brassid.
The lady who snuffed arose.
“Lord help you!” she said grimly.
“Eh?” said Brassid.