We had no sooner entered the room, when, to my horror, Mr. Zzyx went straight up to our hostess, and began to chatter, and stroke her ermine coat. Then he walked over to Lady Gwynne, and repeated the action on the sable wrap. I could see that they were both terribly frightened.
Henry took the matter in hand at once, and drew Mr. Zzyx aside, tenderly, as a father would treat a child of doubtful sanity. After quieting him with a cigarette, he left him in Niki's care, and approached Mrs. Van Dyk.
"A bad break, I'm afraid," he said to her, "and I apologize for this breach of propriety. After all, Mr. Zzyx is part animal, and I'm afraid the high instinctive animalism in him was beguiled by the sight and smell of ermine and sable."
"A gesture of Martian jungle courtship," Lady Gwynne suggested.
Henry shook his head. "No; I don't think so," he said. "Mr. Olinski, my associate, and I, have definitely proved that he is not influenced in any way by what we mortals call sex appeal. Otherwise, he would be very objectionable to have about. Pretty clothes, sparkling gems and furs attract him just as toys intrigue small children. While instinctively curious, and perhaps a little bold, he means no harm."
"Let's hope he'll keep up this high standard of behavior," the Bishop remarked. "Undoubtedly a tremendous brute force lies sleeping under his apparent docility. A pretty go, if this brute force is ever aroused in him."
"I hope to God that'll never happen," said Henry, gravely.
And then Mrs. Van Dyk spoke. "We can't expect him to measure up to Park Avenue social standards," she said. "A little clowning now and then is relished by the best of men. Indeed, I've known men in my own set to go much further than the mere stroking of a lady's fur coat."
"Exquisite!" laughed the Bishop.
"How droll!" Lady Gwynne commented.