"Every one in town, I think. It was the regular Saturday afternoon crowd—and then some."
"Did you give them a chance to speak, dear—or did you go haughtily through them, looking neither to right nor to the left?"
"Come to think of it, I went right through them—to a table in the remote corner. However, it made no difference. I might have forced some of them to bow but it would have been a holdup and they would have been justified in taking it out on me afterward. This was the better way. No one can feel hurt—and every one can choose at leisure what she will do."
"Wouldn't it have been wiser to let them choose at leisure, in the first place, rather than to force them to choose quickly, with the chance that they will reverse themselves at leisure?" suggested Mrs. Mourraille kindly.
"You mean that I shouldn't have gone to the Club?—possibly. But I wanted to see—and, as I remarked to Montague Pendleton, I saw."
"Was Montague with you?" exclaimed Mrs. Mourraille.
"He didn't accompany me—he met me at the Club-house—he and Sheldon Burgoyne." And she explained.
Mrs. Mourraille expressed her appreciation of their actions in praiseful terms—then she asked:
"Were any of my particular friends there?"
"It doesn't matter, mother dear. I won't get you into any snarl any further than I've already drawn you."