"How d'ye do, Mrs. Ruthven; did you get my note? How d'ye do, Mrs. Fane; awf'fly jolly to collide this way. Would you mind if—"
"You," interrupted Rosamund, "ought to be downtown—unless you've concluded to retire and let Wall Street go to smash. What are you pretending to do in Sherry's at this hour, you very dreadful infant?"
"I've been lunching with Mr. Neergard—and would you mind—"
"Yes, I would," began Rosamund, promptly, but Alixe interrupted: "Bring him over, Gerald." And as the boy thanked her and turned back:
"I've a word to administer to that boy, Rosamund, so attack the Neergard creature with moderation, please. You owe me that at least."
"No, I don't!" said Rosamund, disgusted; "I won't be afflicted with a—"
"Nobody wants you to be too civil to him, silly! But Gerald is in his office, and I want Gerald to do something for me. Please, Rosamund."
"Oh, well, if you—"
"Yes, I do. Here he is now; and don't be impossible and frighten him, Rosamund."
The presentation of Neergard was accomplished without disaster to anybody. On his thin nose the dew glistened, and his thick fat hands were hot; but Rosamund was too bored to be rude to him, and Alixe turned immediately to Gerald: