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Updated: June 9, 2025
She suggested to Margaret something good to eat pink and white ice-creams mingled together in a crystal bowl. Healthily devoid as Margaret was of sex-consciousness, it was curious that this first close inspection of Mrs. Mervill should have told her what she never dreamed of before, or even thought about that she loved Michael Amory.
Freddy had told her this to anger her. He was proud of his sister's beauty and pleased that Mrs. Mervill had seen her admired. "Michael," Mrs. Mervill said, "that dark girl is in love with you. She hates me." "Don't talk nonsense!" Michael said. "Why will you spoil our interesting conversation by reverting to a forbidden topic?"
If he had not known Margaret, what would he have done? But Margaret held him. He knew that she was worth a thousand Mrs. Mervills, in spite of the latter's more vivid beauty and her quick wit. For Mrs. Mervill was clever and could be extremely witty and amusing when she liked.
"Please wait one moment, Miss Lampton," Michael said. "I think this is the supper-interval. Mrs. Mervill," he said, "can I take you back to your partner? I am engaged to Miss Lampton for supper." "No, thanks," she said, "I didn't engage myself to anyone for supper." Her eyes plainly expressed the fact that they had hitherto at these dances always enjoyed the supper-interval together.
They had been talking intellectually and seriously for quite half an hour. Mrs. Mervill was a great reader, and she had determined to place herself in a position to talk intelligently, if not learnedly, to Michael about things Egyptian. She had been reading what Ebers had to say about the tragedy of Isis and Osiris being the foundation of many latter-day Egyptian romances.
If Millicent Mervill had been there! He thought of her in that courtyard, in her luxurious modern clothes. How absurd her becoming hat would have seemed, how grotesque her daintily slippered feet! How little she divined his thoughts. "What took you there to-day? Tell me." "I have an old friend there, a student." "A native, do you mean?" "Yes, a native from the country south of Gondokoro."
Mervill again." Meg's eyes spoke her thanks. His avoidance of the woman's Christian name showed his sensitiveness to her feelings. Speaking of her as "Mrs. Mervill" put her pleasantly far away. "I was weak and insincere my kisses were really a dishonour to any woman, and I hated myself."
How was it that he had felt dishonoured and ashamed? He had to return to the ball-room to find his partner for the next dance. As he did so, he passed Mrs. Mervill, who was coming out of it. She looked at him with laughing eyes, a soft, beautiful creature, of supple movements, whose perfect lips had told him the promises which she was capable of fulfilling.
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