The season wore through somehow in perpetual gaieties which the wife hated, but which were essential to the husband's well-being. He had all the racing world, and never missed an important meeting; but when there was no racing he wanted dinner-parties, or crowded evenings, abroad or at home. Later there would be Cowes, where he had a new yacht just out of the builder's yard, waiting to beat every boat in the Channel.
He did not often look at his wife's visiting list, being content to give her the names of the men who were to be asked to her dinners, taking it for granted that they would be asked. Every evening party was more or less an omnium gatherum; and about these he asked no questions—but more than once, between March and June, he had suggested that Mrs. Bellenden should be invited to dinner—to some smallish semi-literary and artistic dinner—and this suggestion being ignored, he had advised her being included in one of the big dinner-parties, where the mighty ones had been bidden to meet the royal Princess.
"I don't think that would do," Vera answered coldly.
"You forget that Mrs. Bellenden is one of the handsomest women in London," Claude answered with some touch of temper, "and that people like to meet a well-known beauty."
"I'm afraid Mrs. Bellenden is rather too well known. You had better give a dinner at 'Claridge's' or the 'Ritz,' Claude, and let Susan do hostess for you. Susie would enjoy it."
"I suppose it will come to that," said Claude. "I'll take one of your Wagner nights—when I know you'll be happy."
Lady Susan having warned her friend against the siren, was not so disloyal as to play hostess at a Bohemian dinner.