result of Mrs. Roby's words was the effect they produced onthe Lunch Club's distinguished guest. Osric Dane's impassive featuressuddenly softened to an expression of the warmest human sympathy, andedging her chair toward Mrs. Roby's she asked: "Did he really? And--didyou find he was right?"
Mrs. Ballinger, in whom annoyance at Mrs. Roby's unwonted assumptionof prominence was beginning to displace gratitude for the aid she hadrendered, could not consent to her being allowed, by such dubious means,to monopolise the attention of their guest. If Osric Dane had not enoughself-respect to resent Mrs. Roby's flippancy, at least the Lunch Clubwould do so in the person of its President.
Mrs. Ballinger laid her hand on Mrs. Roby's arm. "We must not forget,"she said with a frigid amiability, "that absorbing as Xingu is to _us_,it may be less interesting to--"
"Oh, no, on the contrary, I assure you," Osric Dane intervened.
"--to others," Mrs. Ballinger finished firmly; "and we must not allowour little meeting to end without persuading Mrs. Dane to say a fewwords to us on a subject which, to-day, is much more present in all ourthoughts. I refer, of course, to 'The Wings of Death.'"
The other members, animated by various degrees of the same sentiment,and encouraged by the humanised mien of their redoubtable guest,repeated after Mrs. Ballinger: "Oh, yes, you really _must_ talk to us alittle about your book."
Osric Dane's expression became as bored, though not as haughty, as whenher work had been previously mentioned. But before she could respondto Mrs. Ballinger's request, Mrs. Roby had risen from her seat, and waspulling down her veil over her frivolous nose.
"I'm so sorry," she said, advancing toward her hostess with outstretchedhand, "but before Mrs. Dane begins I think I'd better run away.Unluckily, as you know, I haven't read her books, so I should be at aterrible disadvantage among you all, and besides, I've an engagement toplay bridge."
If Mrs. Roby had simply pleaded her ignorance of Osric Dane's works asa reason for withdrawing, the Lunch Club, in view of her recent prowess,might have approved such evidence of discretion; but to couple thisexcuse with the brazen announcement that she was foregoing the privilegefor the purpose of joining a bridge-party was only one more instance ofher deplorable lack of discrimination.
The ladies were disposed, however, to feel that her departure--nowthat she had performed the sole service she was ever likely to renderthem--would probably make for greater order and dignity in the impendingdiscussion, besides relieving them of the sense of self-distrust whichher presence always mysteriously produced. Mrs. Ballinger thereforerestricted herself to a formal murmur of regret, and the other memberswere just grouping themselves comfortably about Osric Dane when thelatter, to their dismay, started up from the sofa on which she had beenseated.
"Oh wait--do wait, and I'll go with you!" she called out to Mrs. Roby;and, seizing the hands of the disconcerted members, she administereda series of farewell pressures with the mechanical haste of arailway-conductor punching tickets.
"I'm so sorry--I'd quite forgotten--" she flung back at them from thethreshold; and as she joined Mrs. Roby, who had turned in surprise ather appeal, the other ladies had the mortification of hearing her say,in a voice which she did not take the pains to lower: "If you'll letme walk a little way with you, I should so like to ask you a few morequestions about Xingu...."
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