Charity carried it off pluckily, but she was in a dangerous humor. She really could not endure the patronizing mercy of these women.
That night Cheever made again his appearance at the dinner-table. He had some notion of putting Charity off her guard or of atoning to her in part for his resumed alliance with Zada. He could not have told what his own motives were, for he was in a state of bewilderment between his duties to Mrs. Charity Tweedledum and Miss Zada Tweedledee. He could not tell which one had the greater claim on his favors.
Charity studied him across the table and wondered what he really was, faun or traitor, Mormon or weakling. He was certainly handsome, but the influence of Zada L'Etoile seemed to hang about him like a green slime on a statue.
She could not find any small talk to carry the meal along. At length Cheever asked:
“What you been up to all day?”
“Oh, committee stuff—that movie thing, you know.”
“How's it coming on? Got a manager yet?”
“Not yet. We were talking about getting some professionals in to brighten up the evening.”
“Good work! Those amateurs make me sick.”
“Mrs. Neff proposed that we get some stunning dancer to do a turn.”