“Something tells me you will. Are you the offspring of a nation of warriors?” Mellenger queried.
“My mother was the daughter of a chief—a king, bred from a thousand kings. And in Riva he who would be king must be a warrior and a leader of warriors.”
“Is polyandry practiced in Riva?” Dan had emerged from the trance into which the startling events of the past few minutes had thrown him.
“I do not know what that is, dear Dan Pritchard,” declared Tamea.
“I mean, do the women have more than one husband, and do the women choose their husbands? In this country,” he hastened to add, “the men do the choosing.”
“Indeed?” Tamea seemed to find this humorous. “Men are weaklings everywhere, I think, and in this country, as in Riva, it appears the women sometimes do the choosing of their husbands. What else may one do? You men are so stupeed!”
“Let us discuss the League of Nations, Dan,” Mellenger suggested. “That is a subject upon which you and I may hazard an opinion. Tamea, are you an advocate of the right of self-determination for the lesser nations—Ireland, for instance?”
“You make the josh, Mel.”
He chuckled, gave his attention to Maisie and displayed an amazing facility at small talk and the gossip of her set. Thereafter he addressed but an occasional word to Tamea, who, however, appeared to relish this neglect, since it gave her ample opportunity to favor the uncomfortable Dan with languishing looks. With the advent of the salad Mellenger deftly piloted the conversation into the realm of trade and finance, appealed very frequently to Dan for confirmation of some theory or an expression of opinion. He contrived to leave Tamea quite out of it, and when at last Maisie rose from the table and the others followed her into the drawing room, Tamea was sensible of a feeling of neglect, of paternalism. She resented this with all the fierce resentment of her hot blood.
But Mellenger was tact and graciousness personified; and when, as the evening wore on, it began to dawn on Tamea that his action was not predicated so much on antagonism to her as on a desire to save Maisie from humiliation, her resentment began to fade. She observed that Dan had little to say, that the conversation was dominated by Mellenger and Maisie; in listening to their words, in watching the play of emotions on their faces, an hour slipped by. Then Mellenger sat at the piano and played while Maisie sang; and later Maisie played while Mellenger sang. Tamea enjoyed their songs immensely and urged them on until ten o’clock, when Dan suggested that perhaps she was tired and would like to retire.