Pimpernel Schley lifted her eyes for an instant from her plate, glanced at Leo Ulford, and cast them down again.
“Leo Ulford’s a blackguard,” observed Mrs. Trent. “And when a fair man’s a blackguard he’s much more dangerous than a dark man.”
All the women stared at Leo Ulford with a certain eagerness.
“He’s good-looking,” said Sally Perceval. “But I always distrust cherubic people. They’re bound to do you if they get the chance. Isn’t he married?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Trent. “He married a deaf heiress.”
“Intelligent of him!” remarked Mrs. Wolfstein. “I always wish I’d married a blind millionaire instead of Henry. Being a Jew, Henry sees not only all there is to see, but all there isn’t. Sir Donald and his Cupid son don’t seem to have much to say to one another.”
“Oh, don’t you know that family affection’s the dumbest thing on earth?” said Mrs. Trent.
“Too deep for speech,” said Lady Manby. “I love to see fathers and sons together, the fathers trying to look younger than they are and the sons older. It’s the most comic relationship, and breeds shyness as the West African climate breeds fever.”
“I know the whole of the West African coast by heart,” declared Miss Burns, wagging her head, and moving her brown hands nervously among her knives and forks. “And I never caught anything there.”
“Not even a husband,” murmured Mrs. Wolfstein to Lady Manby.