We went upstairs and talked until her regular coterie dropped in.
Sir Anthony Cross, whom I had met at Lady Pebworth’s, was one of the first to arrive. He did not like me, but, to my surprise, drew me into a corner.
“Do you remember, Rank, that evening the Pebworths and ourselves went to the Gaiety?”
“Perfectly.”
“You bowed to an awfully pretty woman in the stalls. She was with a good-looking bounder.”
I knew perfectly well whom he meant, of course; but, as he paused for me to refresh my memory, I looked puzzled.
“You must remember—an extraordinarily pretty woman.”
I still looked blank.
“Surely you must remember. A fair woman with fluffy hair and enormous blue eyes, but not a bit dolly, like most fair women. Rather a large mouth.”
“Oh yes; I think I remember.”