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Updated: May 10, 2025
They entered, most unfortunately, while she was in the middle of playing a complicated hand, and her brain was so switched off from the play by their entrance that she completely lost the thread of what she was doing, and threw away two tricks that simply required to be gathered up by her, but now lurked below Diva's elbow.
Randall Clayton's ears drank in that soft, wooing accent, and all the ardor of his eyes betrayed the instant recognition which lay behind the diva's merry words. When he had murmured his thanks, the presence of Lilienthal seemed to be a bar to any rapprochement. Clayton was fain to accept Fräulein Gluyas' courtesy in allowing him a choice as to the handling of the picture or its replica.
The alternations between beckoning him on and warding him off had been managed with such skill, that they appeared to be the result of the Diva's internal struggle with her own inclinations. What was he to understand by it? If she had been, had always been of unblemished character! But it was not so; he knew better! That her conduct at Ravenna had been correct was undeniable.
Even as Athene sprang full grown and panoplied from the brain of Zeus, so from Diva's brain there sprang her plan complete.
Her trained faculties were all on the alert, and she thrust them both inside her glove for future consideration, without stopping to examine them just then. She only knew that they were little pink roses, and that they had fluttered out of Diva's window....
The Contessa, in fact there seemed to be no doubt about it had declared that she would sooner not play bridge at all than play with Miss Mapp, because the effort of not laughing would put an un-warrantable strain on those muscles which prevented you from doing so.... Then the Contessa had gone to tea quite alone with Major Benjy, and though her shrill and senseless monologue was clearly audible in the street as Miss Mapp went by to post her letter again, the Major's Dominic had stoutly denied that he was in, and the notion that the Contessa was haranguing all by herself in his drawing-room was too ridiculous to be entertained for a moment.... And Diva's dyed dress had turned out so well that Miss Mapp gnashed her teeth at the thought that she had not had hers dyed instead.
They were forced to be content with the grater, but pored over the challenge with Withers, and she having an errand to Diva's house, told Janet, who without further ceremony bounded upstairs to tell her mistress.
Very likely chintz decoration would become quite a vogue among the servant maids of Tilling.... How Elizabeth had got hold of the idea mattered nothing, but anyhow she would be surfeited with the idea before Diva had finished with her. It was far more sensible to take for granted that she had got wind of Diva's invention by some odious, underhand piece of spying.
"Say there's nothing in it?" she observed. "Can't understand that." At that moment Diva's telephone bell rang, and she hurried out and in. "Party at Elizabeth's on Wednesday," she said. "She saw me laughing. Why ask me?" Mrs. Poppit was full of her sacred mission. "To show how little she minds your laughing," she suggested. "As if it wasn't true, then. Seems like that.
Did I say too much?" asked the happy impresario, moving off to a console, against which the poet was leaning in an abstracted attitude, while his eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, managed nevertheless to look out for the manifestation on the Diva's face of that impression which he doubted not his figure and pose must make on her.
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