“All right,” he said; “where is the siren?”
She conducted him to the group, performed the introduction. He bowed with the Englishman’s stiffness. The other men politely made place for him. He sat down and endured a quarter of an hour’s anguish. Minna joined the roulette-players, where Mrs. Delamere was staking on even chances, according to an infallible system in which one only plays every tenth or fifteenth game. It suited her purse and protracted the excitement. After winning a few hundred francs, Minna released Gerard from Madame Raborski, who had been trying to create an impression. But the supper-room was full; the hostess became the centre of flowery compliment, delivered with much uplifting of shoulders and spreading of thin bejewelled hands. Gerard chafed and felt his own great fingers tingle. He was not a man accustomed to the amenities of society. During his domesticated days, he went out with Irene only under compulsion. Women bored him, save those whom he appropriated to himself. Then he preferred seclusion with the chosen individual. Among these easy-mannered adventurers and satirical, sharp-witted women, he seemed as uncouth as a bear in a wilderness of monkeys. The comparison was Minna’s, in an after talk with Mrs. Delamere. Consciousness of his lack of adaptability did not soothe his temper. He felt annoyed with himself for coming. “Don’t look so glum,” whispered Minna. “Give me some of that pâté and look after the truffles.” He helped her solemnly, and brought the plate to the corner of the table where she was sitting. Then stood by her, at attention, while she jested with her neighbours. When she had finished, he escorted her to the salon, where she left him to join a handsome woman, in a very low dress, who was playing the piano. Mrs. Delamere, who had abandoned the roulette-table, took pity on him, and sat down with him on a divan against the wall. Being an Englishwoman of his own class, she could make herself companionable, and draw him on to his own subjects, the fortune he had made, the big game he had shot. She had known Freewintle, the mighty hunter with whom he had been associated, and gave satirical sketches of his family history. She was an authority on genealogies, a subject which, by one of the intellectual freaks not uncommon in men of Gerard’s type, interested him greatly. It is a curious fact, but a true one, that all genealogists are related to one another. Mrs. Delamere conclusively proved her connection with the Norfolk Merriams through the Freemantles. They were all East Anglians.
“You have done me good, Mr. Merriam,” she remarked. “I had almost forgotten that there was such a thing as a county family in existence. Look at these people here—I suppose they belong to somebody—but to whom?”
“If they had mothers, it’s about all,” replied Gerard, laughing. Mrs. Delamere had put him into a good humour. Soon afterwards he took his leave.
“Shall I see you to-morrow?” he asked Minna, while bidding her good-bye.
“Perhaps—I don’t know. If I go over to Monte Carlo you may meet me there. There are too many burdens in life to add to them voluntarily by making arrangements for the morrow.”
“You are looking tired,” he said. “A course of late hours and stuffy rooms becomes unhealthy if it’s overdone. Let me take you for a drive to-morrow.”
“With Mrs. Delamere?”
“No. You alone. I can get a decent turn-out in Nice, I suppose. I’ll call for you at two o’clock.”
“Where are you staying?”