XV: THE REAL REASON WHY SHELMERDENE WAS LATE FOR DINNER
“Lord Tarlyon on the telephone, madam.”
“I cannot speak to him, Foster. You can see very well that I cannot speak to him and why I cannot speak to him, and so why didn’t you ask him his message straight away? And take away that towel and bring another not so new. You know very well, Foster, that one cannot dry oneself properly with a new towel. And then ask Lord Tarlyon what he has to say for himself?”
Foster returned.
“His lordship is sorry he disturbed you, madam, and rang up merely to beg you to be punctual for dinner at half-past eight. And may he send his car for you?”
“Tell his lordship,” said Shelmerdene, “that I am always punctual. Add, Foster, that punctuality is the only servile quality I have. And he may send his car for me. Thank him. And for Heaven’s sake, Foster, close those drawers! You know I can’t bear open drawers in a room. I knew something was worrying me.”
In the fulness of time Shelmerdene emerged from her bath and re-entered her bedroom. Her dressing-gown was of white velvet trimmed with ermine and lined with jade green charmeuse. She sat at the toilet-table and looked at herself in the mirror.
“Foster!” called Shelmerdene, softly, vaguely.
“Yes, madam?”
“What shall I wear to-night?”