They softened into a wholly admiring glance however as they rested on Miss Page.
“My dear lady,” she whispered, “that’s the most lovely dress I ever saw in my life! Where do you get your things? And however do you manage to look so delightful in them?”
Anne laughed.
“Let me return the compliment. You look charming, Madge.”
Mrs. Dakin blushed with pleasure, as she turned to shake hands with Mrs. Carfax.
“We are waiting for another guest,” said Miss Page, sitting down in one of the big, chintz-covered chairs. “Monsieur Fontenelle, who, as I dare say you know, has just been made President of the International Art Congress.”
Dr. Dakin looked up quickly from the examination of an eighteenth-century fan, which he recognized as a new treasure in a cabinet filled with ivories, enamel snuff-boxes, old lace, old treasures of all kinds.
“Really?” he exclaimed. “That’s most interesting. The Monsieur Fontenelle, in fact?”
“He’s a very old friend of mine,” said Anne.
“In England for the opening of the show next week, of course?”