"That's a pretty girl," he remarked. "Is she married? I didn't catch her name."
"Oh, yes, she's married to an unknown man who composes."
"The devil she is!"
The lips above the tiny beard stretched in a smile that was rather sardonic.
Before going away Charmian wanted to have a little talk with Susan Fleet, who was helping Mrs. Shiffney with the "fuzzywuzzies." She found her at length standing before a buffet, and entertaining a very thin and angular woman, dressed in black, with scarlet flowers growing out of her toilet in various unexpected places. Miss Fleet welcomed Charmian with her usual unimpassioned directness, and introduced her quietly to Miss Gretch, as her companion was called, surprisingly.
Miss Gretch, who was drinking claret cup, and eating little rolls which contained hidden treasure of pâté de foie gras, bowed and smiled with anxious intensity, then abruptly became unnaturally grave, and gazed with a sort of piercing attention at Charmian's hair, jewels, gown, fan, and shoes.
"She seems to be memorizing me," thought Charmian, wondering who Miss Gretch was, and how she came to be there.
"Stay here just a minute, will you?" said Susan Fleet. "Adelaide wants me, I see. I'll be back directly."
"Please be sure to come. I want to talk to you," said Charmian.
As Susan Fleet was going she murmured: