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One was from Lord Mount Rorke, enclosing a cheque, another a daintily cut envelope, smelling daintily, came from Lady Seveley. "DEAR MR ESCOTT, I have not seen anything of you for a very long time; you promised to lunch with me before you left town, but I suppose amid the general gaieties and friends of the season you were carried far away quite out of my reckoning.
"Who is that lady you saluted?" "Lady Seveley; the lady I told you about, who I went to the theatre with the other night." "Fancy a lady like that smoking a cigarette!" A waiter approached with the bill of fare. "We had better not have anything hot, we shall lose the whole day. What do you say?" "Cold sirloin of beef is excellent, sir; pigeon pie is also very good young birds."
On the walls there were indifferent water-colours, there were gold screens, the cabinets were full of china, there were three-volume novels on the tea-table it was the typical rich widow's house, a house where young men lingered. Frank stood examining a portrait on china of Lady Seveley, it was happily hung with blue ribbon from the top of the mirror.
Fletcher sat next to her, alternately affecting indifference and fixing her with his eyes. Harding was voluble and observant. There was about them an air of thirty and the dissipations of thirty. And, not in the least ashamed of Lizzie, Frank bowed to Lady Seveley; she returned his bow by a slight nod; and Lizzie, very much embarrassed, nodded to the men; they smiled in return.
"Fathers generally are brutes on such occasions, and there are generally excellent reasons for their brutality." "Husbands, too, are brutes, and if all I have heard is correct, there are excellent reasons for their brutality." Lady Seveley turned pale. "I did not come to the theatre to be insulted," she said, hesitating whether she should rise from her seat.
The drawing-room was full of flowers. There was a grand piano, dark and bright; the skins of tigers Lord Seveley had shot carpeted the floor, and on their heads, Helen rested her feet, showing her plump legs to her visitors.
The butler who opened the door seemed surprised at seeing him, and in reply to his question if Lady Seveley was at home, replied hesitatingly: "Her ladyship is at home, but she is not at all well, sir. She is, I think, in her room lying down, sir." "Oh, but did she not expect me? I was to have dined here to-night." "I heard nothing about it, sir; but I'd better ask. Will you come in, sir?"
I wonder what the attraction is? It must be a very special one to keep you out of London in June. "Should you be in town next Thursday, come and dine; I have a box for the theatre. And as an extra inducement I will tell you that I have two very nice girls staying with me, who will interest you. Yours very truly, HELEN SEVELEY."
This portrait would have stirred the imagination of many young men, but Frank thought nothing of it the theatrical display displeased him, it seemed to him even a little foolish. He crossed over to the flowers. "Lady Seveley will be down in a moment, sir," said the maid. A few minutes after the door opened. "How do you do? I am so glad to see you. Won't you sit down?
Then they went to an hotel full of daylight and stained wood, with glimpses of barmaids far away, and waiters running about; the rooms glistened with table linen; the waiters carved at a sideboard covered with pies, sirloins, hams, tongues. Only one table was occupied, and the waiters were lavishing all attention upon it. Lady Seveley leaned back smoking a cigarette.
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