Further she did not account for Captain Dane, who presently took her off somewhere leaving Clive to return to his smiling but enraged mother.
Never had he found any supper party so noisy, so mirthless, and so endless. Half the time he didn't know what he was saying to Winifred Stuart or to anybody else. Nor could he seem to see anybody very distinctly, for the mental phantoms of Athalie and Captain Dane floated persistently before him, confusing everything at moments except the smiling and deadly glance of his mother.
Afterward they went to their various homes in various automobiles, and Clive was finally left with his mother in his own drawing-room.
"What you did this evening," she said to her son, "was not exactly the thing to do under the circumstances, Clive."
"Why not?" he asked wearily as her maid relieved her of her sables and lace hood.
"Because it was not necessary.... That girl you spoke to was the Greensleeve girl I suppose?"
"Yes, Athalie Greensleeve."
"Who was the man?"
"I don't know—a Captain Dane I believe."
"Wasn't a civil bow enough?"