"He won't come," repeated Maud Lille.
Bloodgood gave her a short look, trying to fathom the reason of her belief, a question he did not care to put before Cheever.
At this moment Majendie appeared at the entrance of the studio. The conversation, which had been mounting in nervous staccatos, fell with the hollowness that one sometimes feels in the air before the first crash of a storm. By an uncontrollable impulse, each turned, eager to read in the first indication some clue to his personal fate.
The last arrival had opened the outer door unheard, and, profiting by the commotion, had removed his overcoat and hat in the anteroom.
When the rest of the party perceived him, Majendie was standing erect and smiling under the Turkish lamp that, hanging from the balcony, cast a mellow light on his genial, aristocratic forehead. In every detail, from the ruddy, delicately veined cheeks and white mustache to the slight, finely shaped figure at ease in the evening coat that fitted him as a woman's ball gown, he radiated the patrician, but the patrician of urbanity, tact, and generous impulses.
"My dear hostess," he said at once, bending over Mrs. Kildair's hand with a little extra formality, "a thousand excuses for keeping you and your guests waiting. But just at present there are quite a number of persons who seem to be determined to keep me from my engagements. Am I forgiven?"
"Yes," she answered, with a sudden feeling of admiration for the air of absolute good humor with which he pronounced these words, mystifying though they were to her sense of divination.
"I think I know every one," he said, glancing around without a trace of emotion at Bloodgood and Cheever, whose presence could not have failed to be distasteful. "You are very good to be so lenient, and I will accept whatever penance you impose. Are we going to have one of those delightful chafing-dish suppers that only you know how to provide?"
"What pride!" she murmured to herself, as he passed over to Miss Charters with a compliment that made her and Beecher break out laughing.
Up to the moment, the group had found not the slightest indication of the probable outcome of the afternoon's conference. If anything, there was in his carriage a quiet exhilaration. But the moment was approaching when he must come face to face with Mrs. Bloodgood, who, either in order to gain time for the self-control that seemed almost beyond her, or that she might draw him into more immediate converse, had withdrawn so as to be the last he should greet. Majendie perceived instantly the imprudence of the maneuver, and by a word addressed to Mrs. Kildair, who followed at his side, contrived to bring himself to the farther side of the group, of which little Mrs. Cheever and Garraboy were the other two.