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"About Lady Mount-Rhyswicke," said Cornish, "it seems strange enough, but she has a perfect right to her name. She is a good deal older than she looks, and I've heard she used to be remarkably beautiful. Her third husband was Lord George Mount-Rhyswicke, a man who'd been dropped from his clubs, and he deserted her in 1903, but she has not divorced him.
This last toast the gentlemen felt it necessary to honor by standing in their chairs. When the cigars were brought, the ladies graciously remained, adding tiny spirals of smoke from their cigarettes to the layers of blue haze which soon overhung the table. She was an angel and the others were gods. What could be more appropriate in Rome? Lady Mount-Rhyswicke was Juno, but more beautiful.
Always you are never content wizout your play. You come to dinner an' when it is finish' you play, play, play!" "Play?" He sprang to his feet. "Bravo! That's the very thing I've been wanting to do. I knew there was something I wanted to do, but I couldn't think what it was." Lady Mount-Rhyswicke followed the others into the salon, but Madame de Vaurigard waited just inside the doorway for Mellin.
I know Madge Mount-Rhyswicke and that ain't her voice." A peal of silvery laughter rang from the other side of the curtain. "They've heard you," said Cooley. "An' who could help it?" Madame de Vaurigard herself threw back the curtains. "Who could help hear our great, dear, ole lion? How he roar'!"
He was thoroughly happy; his Helene, his belle Marquise, sat across the table from him sending messages to him with her eyes. He adored her, but he liked Lady Mount-Rhyswicke he liked everybody and everything in the world. He liked Pedlow particularly, and it no longer troubled him that the fat man should be a friend of Madame de Vaurigard. Pedlow was a "character" and a wit as well.
How did I get here?" "I brought you. I was pretty bad, but you I never saw anything like you! From the time you kissed Lady Mount-Rhyswicke " Mellin sat bolt upright in bed, staring wildly. He began to tremble violently. "Don't you remember that?" asked Cooley. Suddenly he did.
Across the table Madame de Vaurigard's eyes met Mellin's with a mocking intelligence so complete that he caught her message without need of the words she noiselessly formed with her lips: "I tol' you you would be making love to her!" He laughed joyously in answer. Why shouldn't he flirt with Lady Mount-Rhyswicke?
"Mellin, you set there," he continued, pushing the young man into a seat opposite Cooley. "We'll give both you young fellers a mascot." He turned to Lady Mount-Rhyswicke, who had gone to the settee by the fire. "Madge, you come and set by Mellin," he commanded jovially. "Maybe he'll forget you ain't a widow again." "I don't believe I care much about bein' anybody's mascot to-night," she answered.
She smiled faintly and said: "You've probably got a sweetheart in the States somewhere a nice girl, a pretty young thing who goes to church and thinks you're a great man, perhaps? Is it so?" "I am not worthy," he began, choked suddenly, then finished "to breathe the same air!" "That's quite right," Lady Mount-Rhyswicke assured him.
As the lovely Helene pronounced that word, Lady Mount-Rhyswicke was leaning forward to replace Mellin's empty glass upon the table. "I don't care whether you're a widow or not!" he shouted furiously. And he resoundingly kissed her massive shoulder. For a time Mellin sat grimly observing this inexplicable merriment with a cold smile.
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