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'Hah d' ye do? said the Pyford. 'Chairmed, minced Madame Carlotti. 'Lucia, take this chair by the fire. You must be frozen. 'Ah, grazie, Sybil. What a perfectly meeserable climate you have in this London! 'Just what I tha-a-y, bleated Mr. Pyford, sinking into his chair in an apparently boneless heap. 'The other night, at a fella's thupper-party, I'
'Miss Durwent, he said, 'if I was sincere to-night, it was because you encouraged me to be so. 'But I said nothing. 'Nevertheless, you were the inspiration. 'I never knew a girl could accomplish so much by holding her tongue. A crash of 'Bravos' broke from the group around the piano; Pyford had just scored a point.
On this Friday night of November in the year 1918, Lady Durwent sat by the fire in the drawing-room and discussed music with Norton Pyford. Having sacrificed his watch on the altar of art, he had been compelled to rely on appetite, with the result that he arrived just as eight was striking.
Selwyn took the opportunity of studying the elusive beauty of Elise Durwent, which seemed to provoke the eye to admiration, yet fade into imperfection under a prolonged searching. Pyford grew sleepy, and even Smyth appeared a little melancholy, when, on a signal from Lady Durwent, brandy and liqueurs were served, checking Mr. Dunckley's oratory and reviving every one's spirits noticeably. 'Mr.
'Discreet, she coquetted. 'People will talk. 'Let them, said Mr. Dunckley earnestly. 'Madame Carlotti, I think you know Mr. Dunckley H. Stackton Dunckley and you too, Mrs. Le Roy Jennings; you clever people ought to be friends at once. And I want you to meet Mr. Pyford, the' 'Hah d'ye do? 'How are you? 'Ro splendid, thanks. 'We were discussing, said Lady Durwent 'discussing'
The resolutionist swept into the room clothed in black disorder, much as if she had started to dress in a fit of temper and had been overtaken by a gale. She knew Madame Carlotti. She did not know Mr. Norton Pyford, the Norton Pyford. She was glad to know him.
He was tall, with expressive arms that were too long for his sleeves, and a nose that would have done credit to a field-marshal. The other was Norton Pyford, the modernist composer, who had developed the study of discord to such a point that his very features seemed to lack proportion, and when he smiled his face presented a lop-sided appearance.
He was dimly conscious that dinner was announced, and that amidst a babel of tongues he was being led by, or was leading, Lady Durwent into the dining-room. He heard the resolutionist and Dunckley both talking at once, and felt the melancholy languor of Pyford floating like incense through the air.
She had not expended her genius to throw it away on a strangely dressed young man whose hair fell straight and black over a large collar that had earned a holiday some days before, and whose velvet jacket was minus two buttons, the threads of which could still be seen, out-stretched, appealing for their owners' return. I think you have met Mr. Norton Pyford, the Norton Pyford, haven't you?
'Yes, said Pyford gloomily; 'London is only seven hours from Paris. 'Ah Parigi! ejaculated Madame Carlotti with the fervour born of the feeling in all Latin women that Paris is their spiritual capital.
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