“You’re always running on to things you can’t make out Claudia. It’s scarcely for want of trying.”
“I have to keep my eyes open for two, for you never see anything, and Girlie’s blind to things she should see. If she’d had a little of Louise’s vim four years ago——”
Mr. Windrom came to a halt and made a queer grimace.
“What’s the matter?”
“I forgot my handkerchief.”
“Really, Charles! If I reminded you once I reminded you a dozen times.”
Mr. Windrom sneezed, loud and long, and turned back towards his room. “Come now, Claudie,” he protested, “make it six.”
2
Miriam, on the heels of the Windroms, paused to look over the railing of the balcony. All her coaching had been leading up to this event, and there was Louise acquitting herself with a virtuosity that effaced Miriam from this setting as completely as Fate had effaced her from her own.
The grey-blue twilight which came through open doors and windows dimmed the orange of the lamps. An incredibly regal personage dominated the assembly, and above a discreet hum Miriam heard a penetrating, dark-toned voice saying, “Vous allez me pardonner, ma chère Louise, d’être descendue un peu en retard. J’ai du défaire une malle. Voilà six jours que je voyage sans changer de robe. Vous jugerez si je suis contente d’être installée—et dans quel petit palais! Maintenant vous allez me présenter ces dames.”