Then Spriggs appeared at the door and announced:
“Miss Clementina Wing.”
And Clementina sailed into the room.
For the first and only time in his life did Quixtus lose his courtliness of manner. For a perceptible instant he stood stock still and stared open-mouthed. It was a Clementina that he had never seen before; a Clementina that no one had ever seen before. It was Clementina in a hundred-guinea gown, gold silk gleaming through ambergris net, Clementina exquisitely corseted and revealing a beautifully curved and rounded figure; Clementina with a smooth, clear olive skin, with her fine black hair coiled by a miracle of the hairdresser’s art, majestically on her head, and set off with a great diamond comb; Clementina wearing diamonds at her throat; Clementina perfectly gloved; Clementina carrying an ostrich feather fan; Clementina erect, proud, smiling, her strong face illuminated by her fine eyes a-glitter with suppressed excitement; Clementina a very great lady and almost a beautiful woman. Those who knew her stared like Quixtus; those who did not looked at her appreciatively.
She sailed across the room, hand outstretched to Quixtus.
“I’m so sorry I’m late, and so sorry I could not run in to-day. I’ve been up to my ears in work. I hope Tommy has been a satisfactory lieutenant.”
“He has most faithfully carried out your instructions,” said Quixtus, recovering his balance.
Clementina smiled on Mrs. Fontaine. “How d’ye do. How charming to meet you again. But you’re looking pale to-night, my dear, quite fagged out, I hope nothing’s the matter.”
She turned round quickly leaving Lena Fontaine speechless with amazement and indignation, and shook hands with the astonished Admiral. Was this regal-looking woman the same paint-daubed rabbit-skinner of the studio? He murmured vague nothings.
“Well, my dears?”