“That further door, there,” and striding forward Palmer laid an impatient finger on the bell. There was a slight delay, then the door was opened by an old colored Mammy, her black face in striking contrast to her snow white apron, cuffs, and collar.
“Can we see Mrs. Van Ness?” asked Palmer. “Say Mr. Maynard and Mr. Palmer.” As Mammy opened the door still further he entered the small anteroom just as Marian Van Ness appeared in the doorway of her parlor. There was a slight pause of uncertainty in her manner, at least one of the men judged so, before she advanced to greet them.
“Come in,” she said and led the way into the parlor. Evelyn, sitting with René La Montagne on the sofa, looked up with some alarm at Palmer, but a glimpse of Maynard just behind him brought a quick smile of pleasure in its train.
La Montagne, springing to his feet, hailed Maynard with a joyous exclamation.
“Ah, mon ami, well met!” He shook Maynard’s hand with effusion. “How is it with you?”
“Well, René.” Maynard’s eyes twinkled as he caught Evelyn’s embarrassed greeting of Palmer and the older man’s scowl as he acknowledged with scant courtesy Marian’s introduction to the French officer. Palmer had not anticipated seeing Evelyn, but with the assurance which characterized all his actions, he promptly took the seat by her side left vacant by La Montagne and addressed her in so low a tone that the others were left to chatter together.
For the first five minutes La Montagne bore the brunt of making conversation and Maynard improved the opportunity to silently observe the attractive room in which they sat, but even as he studied the few good paintings and pictures on the walls his eyes turned back with ever quickening interest to Marian who, in her simple evening gown, engrossed his attention. Her charm, however, did not lie in the perfect fit of her gown, her dark eyes and their long lashes, or the soft pink of her cheeks which deepened and paled as she talked, but in an indefinite something called, for want of a better name, personality.
“We were just discussing you, Mr. Maynard,” she said, catching his eye as he again looked at her. “I have persuaded Evelyn and Captain La Montagne to take part in a Red Cross benefit tableau and play to be given Saturday at the Belasco, and Evelyn wondered if you would aid us with suggestions.”
“I shall be delighted to,” was Maynard’s quick response. “What are the tableaux to be?”
“Patriotic scenes and representations of our heroic Allies,” explained Marian hurriedly; she had been quick to perceive La Montagne’s restless glances at Evelyn and his evident anger at the prolonged tête-à-tête which Palmer was having with her. She raised her voice as she turned her chair slightly nearer the sofa, “I already have your costume ordered, Evelyn; your tableau will not require much rehearsing.”