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Two or three were singers from the Opera House. Another was an aristocratic amateur, an intimate friend of Lady Holme's, who had a beautiful contralto voice. Several of the committee were there too, making themselves agreeable to the artists. Lady Holme began to speak to the French actor. Fritz stood by.
The maid went out, leaving Lady Holme standing in the middle of the big bedroom. Next to it on one side was Lord Holme's dressing-room. On the other side there was a door leading into Lady Holme's boudoir. Almost directly after Josephine had gone Lady Holme heard the outer door of this room opened, and the heavy step of her husband. It moved about the room, stopped, moved about again.
Holme's "Dorothy Q." Opening on the council-chamber is a large billiard-room; the billiard-table is gone, but an ancient spinnet, with the prim air of an ancient maiden lady, and of a wheezy voice, is there; and in one corner stands a claw-footed buffet, near which the imaginative nostril may still detect a faint and tantalizing odor of colonial punch.
Everybody came slowly up the stairs. It was impossible to do anything else. But it seemed to Lady Holme that Miss Schley walked far more slowly than the rest of the tiresome dears, with a deliberation that had a touch of insolence in it. Her straw-coloured hair was done exactly like Lady Holme's, but she wore no diamonds in it. Indeed, she had on no jewels.
People had come round her like beggars who have heard the chink of gold and she had showed them an empty purse. Could she show them something else? And if she could, would her husband join the beggars? Would he care to have even one piece of gold? Whether Lord Holme's obvious infatuation had carried him very far she did not know. She did not stop to ask.
Their intimacy was condoned on all sides as a natural result of Lady Holme's conduct. Most of that which had been accomplished by Lord and Lady Holme together after their reconciliation over the first breakfast was undone.
One never knows the sort of impression one produces on the world. I think Miss Schley a very attractive little creature, and as to her social gifts, I bow to them." "But she has none," cried Mrs. Wolfstein, who was one of those who had drawn Lady Holme's attention to the likeness. "How can you say so? Everyone is at her feet." "Her feet, perhaps. They are lovely. But she has no gifts.
I'm going with Rupert Carey." "Really!" At this moment Lady Holme's eyes and manner wandered. She had just caught a glimpse of Mrs. Wolfstein, a mass of jewels, and of Pimpernel Schley at the foot of the staircase, had just noticed that the latter happened to be dressed in black. "Bye-bye!" she added. Robin Pierce walked on into the drawing-rooms looking rather preoccupied.
"When isn't it?" "Do I know her?" "Slightly." "Well?" "Miss Schley." "Really?" Lady Holme's voice sounded perfectly indifferent and just faintly surprised. There was no hint of irritation in it. "And what are they saying about Miss Schley?" she added, sipping her tea and glancing about the crowded room. "Oh, many things, and among the many one that's more untrue than all the rest put together."
Miss Schley looked as if she had not heard. She often did when anything of importance to her was said. It was important to her to be admitted to Lady Holme's house. Everybody went there.
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