Lord Holme's under-jaw resumed its natural position, and he walked away
and was lost in the crowd, following the two dancers.
"Take me in to supper, Robin. I'm tired."
"This way. I thought you were never coming."
"People stayed so late. I can't think why. I'm sure it was dreadfully
dull and foolish. How odd Mr. Carey's looking! When I bowed to him just
now he didn't return it, but only stared at me as if I were a stranger."
Robin Pierce made no rejoinder. They descended the great staircase and
went towards the picture-gallery.
"Find a corner where we can really talk."
"Yes, yes."
He spoke eagerly.
"Here--this is perfect."
They sat down at a table for two that was placed in an angle of the great
room. Upon the walls above them looked down a Murillo and a Velasquez.
Lady Holme was under the Murillo, which represented three Spanish street
boys playing a game in the dust with pieces of money.
"A table for two," said Robin Pierce. "I have always said that the
Duchess understands the art of entertaining better than anyone in London,
except you--when you choose."
"To-night I really couldn't choose. Later on, I'm going to give two or
three concerts. Is anything the matter with Mr. Carey?"
"Do you think so?"
"Well, I hope it isn't true what people are saying."
"What are they saying?"
"That's he's not very judicious in one way."
A footman poured champagne into her glass.
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