I often wonder what Pavitt thought of that family party. He certainly served Viola as if he loved her, and Jimmy as if he was sorry for him, calling his attention to a dish or a wine which, he seemed to say, it would be a pity for him to miss—it might prove a consolation to him.
Our agony became so unbearable that the women ended it when they could by leaving us at the stage of coffee and cigarettes. Then, with us three men the position became untenable, and Reggie found that he'd have to go out at nine; he had an appointment with a fellow. And at nine he went.
Viola and Jimmy left us very soon after.
She said, "It was dear of you to have us," not in the least humbly, but as if they had enjoyed it.
Up to the very last she was magnificent, and even Jimmy played up well. In fact, when Reggie's perfection was no longer there to damage him he was rather fine.
It was poor little Norah who broke down. I found her crying all by herself on the couch in my study when they'd gone.
She said, "Wally, this is awful. It's the most awful thing that could have happened."
I said, "Oh, come—" and she persisted. "But it is. She adored Reggie. He used to adore her—and—you've seen him, how he was to-night. It'll kill her if he keeps it up."
I said, "He won't keep it up."
"Oh, won't he! You don't know Reggie."