The silence for a moment was almost oppressive, then she spoke without trusting herself to meet his eyes. “You have refused two invitations to dinner, and you have quite deserted my evenings and my Sundays,” she said in a low voice.
Slightly embarrassed he began some conventional excuse, but she lifted her hand with a peremptory little gesture. “I know—I quite understand,” she said; “Wicklow has behaved abominably but—am I to suffer, too?”
“My dear Margaret,” he replied, without too deep emotion, “such a possibility is absurd!”
She looked up, searching his face, and her smile was the shadow of itself, pale and suddenly controlled. “You do not mean to accept his hospitality again?” she said, with an effort.
He was deeply annoyed; why must she force this issue upon him? He was capable, at times, of extreme hardness toward others. To-day she was unfortunate enough to jar upon him, to recall too sharply White’s conduct. “I’m not prepared to say,” he replied with some impatience; “can’t we avoid the subject? Tell me of yourself, Margaret, you look tired and pale.”
She bit her lip, a sudden color refuting his charge. “I am very well,” she replied coldly; “I danced until two o’clock this morning; at eleven I received a delegation of Wicklow’s jackdaws; at two I lunched with Madame de Caillou—she is so diplomatic that she only discusses generalities and parrots; she has three—M. de Caillou not included; he belongs to the poodle class. At four I came here with Mrs. O’Neal and Lily Osborne; I give a dinner to-night and then go to the opera. It is much the same to-morrow. Have you a cigarette, William?”
He opened his case and she selected one and lit it; Fox was not smoking. “I presume that it will be in the newspapers to-morrow that I was seen with a cigarette on the terrace talking to the next President,” she remarked dryly; “I mean you to be the candidate,” she added, “Wicklow is playing for it but—” she laughed, blowing the cigarette smoke into rings before her face.
“He will probably be nominated,” Fox rejoined easily; “he has a large following; I shall like to see you in that rôle, Margaret.”
“To see me?” she shrugged her shoulders; “my dear William, do you happen to know what Lily Osborne is doing?”
He laughed. “Ask me something easier!”