She stole another glance across the room. By every indication Bellamy found his company most entertaining; he was paying her sallies a tribute of smiling attention which she as evidently found both grateful and inspiring. It was plain that she had had enough to drink and something more; but on that question she held strong views of her own, and while Lucinda was looking drained her highball glass and with an air peremptory and arch planted it in front of Bellamy to be replenished; a service which he rendered with the aid of a pocket flask—adding to his own glass, however, water only.
Not that that necessarily meant anything. Bellamy knew the chances were that Lucinda was watching him. Still, one had to admit he was showing none of those too familiar symptoms; in that gathering, where the cold sober were few and far between, Bel looked conspicuously so. Was he, then, to be believed when he insisted he had finally foresworn alcohol in remorse for having driven Lucinda to leave him? One wondered....
Summerlad was eyeing her with a quizzical air. Lucinda managed half a smile.
"Having a good time, Linda?"
"I can't complain." A slight movement of shoulders rounded out the innuendo.
Summerlad made a mouth of concern. "Tired, dear? Want to go home?"
"Afraid Fanny and Harry wouldn't like it...."
Was one unfair in reading disappointment where Lynn wished solicitude only to be read?
"How about another little drink?" Lucinda shook her head decidedly. "Well, then: what say we dance?"
She surveyed the crowded floor dubiously. "It's an awful crush, I'm afraid...." Nevertheless she got up and threaded the jostling tables with Lynn at her heels: anything for respite from the racket the Lontaines and their crew were kicking up.