She was struck suddenly with a fear that he might be finding her company irksome. It was quite likely that at other times, when he had been provided with a companion familiar with the technic of such parties, he had contributed more to the gaiety of the occasions. But her imagination was unequal to the task of visualizing him in such antics as Kemp was engaged in. He impressed her more and more as she studied him as a man who kept himself in perfect control; who found indeed a secret enjoyment in merely looking on when others were bent upon making an exhibition of themselves.
“We were speaking awhile ago of our naughtiness in accepting an invitation to a function like this. I’ve attended a lot of such parties here and elsewhere. I am always wondering why I’m invited and why I go. Perhaps,” he smiled quizzically, “it’s to give moral tone! That’s undoubtedly why you were invited.”
“That excuse won’t do for me!” she replied quickly. “I wanted to come; I was perfectly crazy to come!”
“Well, it’s just as well to satisfy your curiosity. I assure you these parties are all alike. I’ve taken a hand in them in every part of the world. The only thing that makes this one different is—” he smiled broadly and his eyes danced with humor—“is you! I might say that you are quite different. You create an atmosphere quite your own.”
“Hurry up and explain that!” She clasped her hands in mock appeal. “I might be different and still very unsatisfactory!”
“Yes, there is that possibility,” he answered musingly. “A girl requires a little practice to catch the stroke. That is, she has got to get over the first shock before she becomes a good party girl. You’re a novice. It will be interesting to know just how you emerge from the novitiate.”
“Would you be interested in that,—really?”
“Vastly!”
Her attention wavered and with a quick lifting of the head she bent a startled questioning look upon him. The new records of distinguished operatic stars which Kemp and Irene had been playing had served as a faint accompaniment to their talk, but the music and the sound of voices were no longer audible in the sun porch. Grace glanced nervously about, oppressed by the silence. Voices and steps were heard in the rooms above. Trenton asked if she had read a novel which he took from the lower shelf of the stand that held the coffee things. Her negative reply was almost hostile and she did not meet his gaze. Her face wore a look of cold detachment. It seemed to him that the girl was no longer there; that what he saw was merely a shadowy shape that might pass utterly at any moment. He rose and dropped his half-smoked cigarette into an ashtray on the stand. When he faced her again the look had changed. He interpreted it as an appeal and he was not unmindful of its poignancy. She sat erect, her head lifted, her hands clasped upon her knees.
“I was just wondering—” she began.