Her expression said more plainly than words that she would do the decent thing or die.
"I was—" she began freezingly, as we both arose to greet her, "I was—"
She took in at a glance Maitland Tait's gigantic size, and shrank back—a little frightened. Then his good clothes reassured her. A giant who patronizes a good New York tailor is a cut above an ordinary giant, she evidently admitted.
"—detained," she added, with the air of making a concession. She accepted the chair he drew up for her, and his down-to-the-belt grace began making itself conspicuous. She looked him over, and her jaundiced eye lost something of its color.
"—unavoidably," she plead, with a regretful prettiness.
Then she made the tea, and when she saw how caressingly the big man's smooth brown hands managed his cup, the remaining thin layer of ice over her cordiality melted, and she became the usual charming mother of a marriageable daughter. While she was at all times absolutely loyal to Guilford, still she knew that a mother's appearance is a daughter's asset, and she had always laid up treasures for me in this manner.
"You were at Mrs. Walker's Flag Day reception yesterday Grace tells me?" she inquired as casually as if a bloody battle of words had not been waging over the occurrence all morning. "And Mrs. Kendall was talking with me this morning on the telephone about her dance Friday night—"
She paused, looking at him interrogatively, because that had been Mrs. Kendall's own emotion when mentioning the matter.
Mr. Tait glanced toward me.
"Ah, yes—I had forgotten! You will be there?"