The rustle of silk approaching put Clarence in a tremor—making him forget what he was saying.
Elvira entered, and he rose to meet her.
“I must salute you Spanish fashion,” she said, embracing him.
“Where is pussy?” said George, going towards the door, but as the train of Elvira's dress lay in his way, he looked down and pushed it aside.
Mercedes, who had remained behind the door, saw him do so, and burst out laughing, for it seemed to her as if George was expecting to find pussy entangled in Elvira's train.
“Here she is, laughing at me,” said George, taking her arm.
She looked so lovely, that Clarence stood looking at her in silence, not even taking a step to meet her.
“Mr. Darrell, I am very glad to see you,” she said, still laughing, all her fear and trembling having left her. She extended her hand to him with perfect composure.
Elvira looked at her surprised. She herself was surprised at her sudden and perfect calmness. Because George made her laugh looking for pussy in Elvira's train, she lost all her fear.
“This is a step from the sublime to the ridiculous,” she said to herself, as she became of a sudden philosophically calm.