Stephanie looked away: "Your profession must be most interesting, Miss
West."
"Yes."
"But—exacting."
"Very."
Neither made any further effort. A moment later, however, Hélène d'Enver came in. She knew some of the women very slightly, none intimately; and, catching sight of Valerie, she came across the room with a quick smile of recognition:
"I'm dreadfully late, dear—how do you do, Miss Swift"—to Stephanie, who had risen. And to Valerie: "Mr. Ogilvy came; just as I had my furs on—and you know how casually a man takes his leave when you're in a tearing hurry!"
She laughed and took Valerie's gloved hands in her own; and Stephanie, who had been looking at the latter, came to an abrupt conclusion that amazed her; and she heard herself saying:
"It has been most interesting to meet you, Miss West. I have heard of you so pleasantly that I had hoped to meet you some time. And I hope I shall again."
Valerie thanked her with a self-possession which she did not entirely feel, and turned away with Hélène d'Enver.
"That's the girl who is supposed to be engaged to Louis Neville," whispered the pretty countess.