Lawton: “It is Mr. Curwen, after all, Mrs. Roberts. Now let me see how a lady transmutes a frown of threatened vengeance into a smile of society welcome.”
Mrs. Roberts: “Well, look!” To Mr. Curwen, who enters, followed by her husband: “Ah, Mr. Curwen! So glad to see you. You know all our friends here—Mrs. Miller, Dr. Lawton, and Mr. Bemis?”
Curwen, smiling and bowing, and shaking hands right and left: “Very glad—very happy—pleased to know you.”
Mrs. Roberts, behind her fan to Dr. Lawton: “Didn’t I do it beautifully?”
Lawton, behind his hand: “Wonderfully! And so unconscious of the fact that he hasn’t his wife with him.”
Mrs. Roberts, in great astonishment, to Mr. Curwen: “Where in the world is Mrs. Curwen?”
Curwen: “Oh—oh—she’ll be here. I thought she was here. She started from home with two right-hand gloves, and I had to go back for a left, and I—I suppose—Good heavens!” pulling the glove out of his pocket. “I ought to have sent it to her in the ladies’ dressing-room.” He remains with the glove held up before him, in spectacular stupefaction.
Lawton: “Only imagine what Mrs. Curwen would be saying of you if she were in the dressing-room.”
Roberts: “Mr. Curwen felt so sure she was there that he wouldn’t wait to take the elevator, and walked up.” Another ring is heard. “Shall I go and meet your aunt now, my dear?”
Mrs. Roberts: “No, indeed! She may come in now with all the formality she chooses, and I will receive her excuses in state.” She waves her fan softly to and fro, concealing a murmur of trepidation under an indignant air, till the portière opens, and Mr. Willis Campbell enters. Then Mrs. Roberts breaks in nervous agitation “Why, Willis! Where’s Aunt Mary?”