“You mean,” Frederick demanded, “that I am to carry it off with an air?”
Jane nodded. “Make comedy of it instead of tragedy.”
Adelaide slipping out of her wrap was revealed as elegant and distinguished in silver and black.
“May I have a cigarette, Ricky, to settle my nerves? Eloise is tremendously upsetting.” Adelaide was plaintive.
Jane watched her with lively curiosity. The women she knew did not smoke. Baldy’s flappers did, but they were abnormal and of a new generation. Mrs. Laramore was old enough to be Jane’s mother, and Jane had a feeling ... that mothers ... shouldn’t smoke....
But none the less, Adelaide Laramore and her exotic ways were amusing. She had a brittle and artificial look, like the Manchu lady in the Museum, or something in wax.
Jane was brought back from her meditation by the riotous entrance of Eloise and the two men.
“I knew Adelaide was telling tales.”
“I told you I was coming, Eloise.”
Eloise stared at Jane when Frederick presented her. “You look like your brother. Twins?”