Blessington's eyebrows went up.
There was silence. Loder glanced across the room. Eve had parted from the girl in green and was moving towards them, exchanging smiles and greetings as she came.
“My wife is coming back,” he said. “Will you do this for me, Blessington? It—it will smooth things—” He spoke quickly, continuing to watch Eve. As he had hoped, Blessington's eyes turned in the same direction. “'Twill smooth matters,” he repeated, “smooth them in—in a domestic way that I can't explain.”
The shot told. Blessington looked round.
“Right, sir!” he said. “You may leave it to me,” And before Loder could speak again he had turned and disappeared into the crowd.
XVI
His business with Blessington over, Loder breathed more freely. If Lady Astrupp had recognized Chilcote by the rings, and had been roused to curiosity, the incident would demand settlement sooner or later—settlement in what proportion he could hazard no guess; if, on the other hand, her obvious change of manner had arisen from any other source he had a hazy idea that a woman's behavior could never be gauged by accepted theories—then he had safeguarded Chilcote's interests and his own by his securing of Blessington's promise. Blessington he knew would be reliable and discreet. With a renewal of confidence—a pleasant feeling that his uneasiness had been groundless—he moved forward to greet Eve.
Her face, with its rich, clear coloring, seemed to his gaze to stand out from the crowd of other faces as from a frame, and a sense of pride touched him. In every eye but his own her beauty belonged to him.
His face looked alive and masterful as she reached his side. “May I monopolize you?” he said, with the quickness of speech borrowed from Chilcote. “We see so little of each other.”