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"Everything has been perfect, has it not, Mabella?" Lady Avonwier said. "I have even been converted about your marvellous Madame Boleski!
But where were his host and hostess he must bid them farewell. John Ardayre was valsing with Lady Avonwier and Harietta Boleski undulated in the arms of the tall German who had come with the party from Broomgrove but Amaryllis for the moment was absent from the room. "If I could only know who the beast is before I go, and where she has met him previously!" Verisschenzko's thoughts ran.
The quantities of servants, the perfectly turned-out motors the wonderful chef all had been his doing, and when most of the party had retired to their rooms for a little rest before dinner on the twenty-fifth, the evening of the ball, Lady de la Paule and John's friend, Lady Avonwier, congratulated him, as he sat with them, the last ladies remaining, under the great copper beech tree on the lawn which led down to the lake.
Do you think she beats him when they are alone?" "Who knows? She is so primitive, she may be capable even of that!" "Her clothes are not primitive," and John Ardayre lighted a cigarette. "I don't think she really can be such a fool." "I never suggested that she was a fool at all!" Lady Avonwier was decisive.
"Yes, we are worldlings," Lady Avonwier admitted, "just measuring people up for what they can give us, it is the only way though when the whole thing is such a rush!" "I am so sorry for the poor husband," and Lady de la Paule's fat voice was kindly. "He does look such a wretched, cadaverous thing, with that black beard and those melancholy black eyes, and emaciated face.
"No one can be a fool who is as tenacious as she is fools are vague people, who let things go. She is merely illiterate and stupid as an owl." "I like your distinction between stupidity and foolishness!" John Ardayre often argued with Lady Avonwier; they were excellent friends. "A stupid person is often a great rest and arrives a fool makes one nervous and loses the game.
But here, I admit, since she provides us with amusement, I have no objection to accepting her, as I would a new nigger band, and shall certainly send her a card for my fancy ball next week." John Ardayre chuckled softly. "That sound indicates?" and Etta Avonwier flashed at him her lovely clever eyes. John Ardayre did not answer in words, but both women joined in his smile.
He seldom danced himself, and therefore must often have been weary, but no suggestion of this ever reached Amaryllis. "What does he talk to his friends about, I wonder?" she asked herself, watching him from across a room, in a great house after dinner one night. John was seated beside the American Lady Avonwier, a brilliant person who did not allow herself to be bored.
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