Winifred lied with the glibness of long training:
"No, indeed. But I'd love to. Let's look for her."
And she took Mrs. Neff's sharp elbow in her fat hand, and led her in the wrong direction. A moment later she whirled her away from an alley of roses where Stowe Webb was blundering along in such eager search of Alice that he would have walked into her mother but for Winifred's alertness as a chauffeuse.
"She's here somewhere," Mrs. Neff was saying as her eyes ransacked the glittering crowd. "I snatched her away from America to keep her from the possibility of meeting that young Webb."
"What a very clever idea!" said Winifred, and she began to laugh so helplessly that Mrs. Neff grew suspicious. But having no clue to work on, she changed the subject:
"Persis and Willie are here, I see."
"Are they? I telegraphed the dear girl an invitation, but I was afraid she was stuck in London."
"She came over for the Prix des Drags to-morrow."
"How does the poor child look after—after honeymooning with Willie; Heaven help her!—and him!"
"She looks—oh, of course, she's still our dear beautiful Persis, but Willie, of course, is the same dear little dam-phool. Alice's maid, the Irish one, said Persis looked like her heart was dead in her, the creature. She had it from his man that Willie and she get along like the monkey and the parrot. But, of course, one can't listen to servants."