Edith now did a thing she had never done in her life before and which was entirely unlike her. She tried her utmost to retain the group round her, and to hold their attention. For a reason of which she was hardly conscious, she wanted Aylmer Ross to see her surrounded. The minister from the place with a name like Ruritania was so immensely bowled over that he was already murmuring in a low voice (almost a hiss, as they say in melodrama): 'Vous etes chez vous, quand? Dites un mot, un mot seulement, et je me precipiterai a vos pieds_,' while at the same time, in her other ear, Lord Rye was explaining (to her pretended intense interest) how he could play the whole of _Elektra, The Chocolate Soldier_ and _Nightbirds_ by ear without a single mistake. ('Perfectly sound!' grumbled Captain Willis, 'but why do it?') Vincy was listening, enjoying himself. Bruce came in at last, evidently engaged in an absorbed and intimate conversation with Aylmer Ross. They seemed so much interested in their talk that they went to the other end of the room and sat down there together. Aylmer gave her one glance only.

Edith was unreasonably annoyed. What on earth could he and Bruce find to talk about? At length, growing tired of her position, she got up, and walked across the room to look at a picture on the wall, turning her graceful back to the room.

Bruce had now at last left his companion, but still Aylmer Ross did not go and speak to her, though he was sitting alone.

Musical chairs began in the studio. Someone was playing 'Baby, look-a-here,' stopping suddenly in the middle to shouts of laughter and shrieks from the romping players. In the drawing-room some of the people were playing bridge. How dull the rest of the evening was! Just before the party practically broke up, Edith had an opportunity of saying as she pa.s.sed Aylmer:

'I thought we were going to have a talk instead of playing games?'

'I saw you were occupied,' he answered ceremoniously. 'I didn't like--to interrupt.'

She laughed. 'Is this a jealous scene, Mr Ross?'

'I wonder,' he said, smiling, 'and if so, whose. Well, I hope to see you again soon.'

'_What_ a success your charming wife has had tonight,' said Mrs Mitch.e.l.l to Bruce, as they took leave. 'Everyone is quite wild about her. How pretty she is! You _must_ be proud of her.'

They were nearly the last. Mr Cricker, who had firmly refused the whole evening, in spite of abject entreaties, to dance like Nijinsky, suddenly relented when everyone had forgotten all about it, and was leaping alone in the studio, while Lord Rye, always a great lingerer, was playing Richard Strauss to himself on the baby Grand, and smoking a huge cigar.

'Edith,' said Bruce solemnly, as they drove away, 'I've made a friend tonight. There was one really charming man there--he took an immense fancy to me.'

'Oh--who was that?'

'Who was that?' he mimicked her, but quite good-naturedly. 'How stupid women are in some things! Why, Aylmer Ross, the chap who sat next to you at dinner! I suppose you didn't appreciate him. Very clever, very interesting. He was anxious to know several things which I was glad to be in a position to tell him. Yes--an awfully good sort. I asked him to dine at my club one day, to go on with our conversation.'

'Oh, did you?'

'Yes. Why shouldn't I? However, it seems from what he said that he thinks the Carlton's nicer for a talk, so I'm going to ask him there instead. You can come too, dear. He won't mind; it won't prevent our talking.'

'Oh, are we going to give a dinner at the Carlton?'

'I wish you wouldn't oppose me, Edith. Once in a way! Of course I shall. Our flat's too small to give a decent dinner. He's one of the nicest chaps I've ever met.'

'Well, do you want me to write tomorrow morning then, dear?'

'Er--no--I have asked him already.'

'Oh, really--which day?'

'Well, I suggested next Thursday--but he thought tomorrow would be better; he's engaged for every other day. Now don't go and say you're engaged tomorrow. If you are, you'll have to chuck it!'

'Oh no; I'm not engaged.'

Mentally rearranging her evening dress, Edith drove home thoughtfully.

She was attracted and did not know why, and for the first time hoped she had made an impression. It had been a long evening, and her headache, she said, necessitated solitude and darkness at once.

'All right. I've got a much worse headache--gout, I think, but never mind about me. Don't be anxious, dear! I say, that Miss Mooney is a very charming woman. She took rather a fancy to me, Edith. Er--you might ask her to dinner too, if you like, to make a fourth!'

'But--really! Ought we to s.n.a.t.c.h all the Mitch.e.l.ls' friends the first time, Bruce?'

'Why, of course, it's only courteous. It's all right. One must return their hospitality.'

CHAPTER VI

The Visit

The following afternoon Edith was standing by the piano in her condensed white drawing-room, trying over a song, which she was accompanying with one hand, when to her surprise the maid announced 'Mr Aylmer Ross.' It was a warm day, and though there was a fire the windows were open, letting in the scent of the mauve and pink hyacinths in the little window-boxes. She thought as she came forward to meet him that he seemed entirely different from last night. Her first impression was that he was too big for the room, her second that he was very handsome, and also a little agitated.

'I really hardly know how to apologise, Mrs Ottley. I oughtn't to have turned up in this cool way. But your husband has kindly asked me to dine with you tonight, and I wasn't sure of the time. I thought I'd come and ask you.' He waited a minute. 'Of course, if I hadn't been so fortunate as to find you in, I should just have left a note.' He looked round the room.

Obviously it was quite unnecessary for him to have called; he could have sent the note that he had brought with him. She was flattered. She thought that she liked his voice and the flash of his white teeth when he smiled.

'Oh, I'm glad I'm at home,' she said, in a gentle way that put him at his ease, and yet at an immense distance. 'I felt in the mood to stop at home and play the piano today. I'm delighted to see you.' They sat down by the fire. 'It's at eight tonight. Shall we have tea?'

'Oh no, thanks; isn't it too early? I sha'n't keep you a moment. Thanks very much.... You were playing something when I came in. I wish you'd play it to me over again.'

Nine women out of ten would have refused, saying they knew nothing of music, or that they were out of practice, or that they never played except for their own amus.e.m.e.nt, or something of the kind; especially if they took no pride whatever in that accomplishment. But Edith went back to the piano at once, and went on trying over the song that she didn't know, without making any excuse for the faltering notes.

'That's charming,' he said. 'Thanks. Tosti, of course.'

She came back to the fireplace. 'Of course. We had great fun last night, didn't we?'

'Oh, _I_ enjoyed myself immensely; part of the time at least.'

'But after dinner you were rather horrid, Mr Ross. You wouldn't come and talk to me, would you?'

'Wouldn't I? I was afraid. Tell me, do I seem many years older since last night?' he asked.

'I don't see any difference. Why?'

'Because I've lived months--almost years--since I saw you last. Time doesn't go by hours, does it?... What a charming little room this is.

It suits you. There's hardly anything in it, but everything is right.'

'I don't like to have many things in a room,' said Edith, holding out her delicate hands to the fire. 'It makes me nervous. I have gradually accustomed Bruce to my idea by removing one thing at a time --photographs, pictures, horrid old wedding presents, all the little things people have. They suggest too many different trains of thought. They worry me. He's getting used to it now. He says, soon there'll be nothing left but a couple of chairs and a bookcase!'

'And how right! I've had rather the same idea in my house, but I couldn't keep it up. It's different for a man alone; things seem to acc.u.mulate; especially pictures. I know such a lot of artists. I'm very unfortunate in that respect.... I really feel I oughtn't to have turned up like this, Mrs Ottley.'

'Why not?'

'You're very kind.... Excuse my country manners, but how nice your husband is. He was very kind to me.'

'He liked _you_ very much, too.'