“It was good of you to ask me.”
Then she introduced me to a pretty, dark-eyed woman, whose beauty was just giving signs of approaching wane.
“Mrs. Hetherington, Mr. Rank.” And she left us.
Mrs. Hetherington talked incessantly, but I replied in monosyllables. I realised that Lady Pebworth was interested, and my vanity was flattered that a woman, so evidently admired and courted in a first-rate set, should be attracted by me. I could see that she was very much aware of my presence whilst seeming to be engrossed by the conversation of a man of distinguished appearance suggesting diplomacy. A feeble-looking young man with rather a pleasant laugh joined in the conversation between Mrs. Hetherington and myself. He was evidently inquisitive as to who I might be, and threw out one or two baits which I avoided.
Mrs. Hetherington droned on about Lord this and Lady that—if she mentioned commoners at all they possessed double-barrelled names—until there was a general movement to go. I rose with the others, but Lady Pebworth with the greatest cleverness managed to avoid saying good-bye to me till everyone else had gone and we were left alone. Mrs. Hetherington, who was the last to leave, looked at me with the insolent curiosity of good breeding as she was making her farewells, evidently fully conscious of her hostess’s manœuvring.
“Are you in a great hurry?” asked Lady Pebworth, as the door closed behind Mrs. Hetherington.
“Oh, no.”
“Then sit down and let us talk. I must have some fresh tea, and you will have something stronger.”
I explained that I seldom drank anything stronger than tea.
She looked at me curiously.