‘Who ever was it, Gerald? …’
Seated before a mirror, her shoulders gilded by the evening sun, Miss O’Brookomore drew a net of sapphire stones across her hair.
‘Some god of the woods – no doubt!’
‘That’s only for a diary … It doesn’t do for me …’
‘Things do happen so quickly!’
‘Very likely it was Cyril Cloudcap …’
‘It may have been Charlie Cumston.’
‘Mer-cy! Gerald.’
‘How soon will you be ready?’
‘I’ve no appetite, Gerald. While the Count’s at Delphi I don’t seem to care.’
‘Foolish girl!’
‘Oh! I do long to be married, Gerald … It’s what I long to be most. Just married, dear.’
‘Not without your parents’ consent.’
‘Nonsense, Gerald!’
‘It’s a caprice that will pass.’
‘Oh, Gerald, his love talk with me and what I reply – it’s a real duet!’
Miss O’Brookomore tucked a few mauve satin flowers into her frock.
‘Aren’t they heavenly?’ she inquired. ‘Especially the purple ones …’
‘Oh, Gerald!’
‘My poor puss—’
‘People’s lives, dearie, don’t seem to be a bit their own once they’re in love.’
‘Love is a seed that needs watering from day to day. Otherwise it dies.’
‘With me it all accumulates.’
‘Don’t let’s miss the sunset – the later half.’
‘It’s a sunset and a sobset, Gerald. Oh, it’s so sad …’
‘In the end everything has to be paid for.’
‘Principally for that I’d sooner I didn’t dine. It really isn’t worth it, Gerald …’
‘No dinner?’
‘Even gratis. Oh, Gerald!’
‘We’re sure to meet the Arbanels.’
‘I tapped at their door as I came along.’
‘I fear that was intrusive.’
‘Directly it dawned upon her it was me she flew forward brandishing a powder-puff.’
‘Her behaviour’s getting Byzantine – more and more.’
Miss Collins folded an arm about her friend.
‘Why do you think it’s Byzantine, Gerald? What ever makes you think it is?’
‘On certain natures environment frequently reacts. I can recall the Queen of Snowland (when a guest at Windsor) frisking off one afternoon into the town in search of lodgings. She came to the very house where I was writing her life … and we met in the front hall.’
‘Oh, good gracious!’
‘Similarly, I feel inclined to believe that Mrs Arbanel in Egypt would be less vivid and more Athenian in her ways.’
‘Can a leopard change its spots, Gerald?’
‘My dear, it can modify them.’
‘I’m surprised you lend her Palmer.’
‘I’ve only offered her, of course, until the faithless Clint can be replaced. Mrs Arbanel hopes to secure someone locally.’
‘I shouldn’t think there were many maids to be found locally, Gerald. I shouldn’t think there was one. Not in Olympia.’
‘The deciphering of their characters, in any case, would require a skilful student,’ Miss O’Brookomore observed as Palmer came in.
Miss Collins rolled her eyes.
‘Thank heaven!’ she exclaimed.
‘It didn’t take you long!’
‘I was as quick with her, miss, as I could be.’
‘We were prepared to hear some screams …’
‘Were I to be stabbed, Miss Mabel, I should endeavour to be considerate.’
‘Violets!’
‘I suppose, poor thing, she is still very dazed?’
‘She seemed lost in reverie, miss.’
‘I expect it’s the air.’
‘She intends to ride to Sparta almost immediately, since Olympia, she hears, is nothing but cliques and coteries.’
‘It’s their season now.’
‘There’s a good deal of entertaining, miss, to-night. Dorinda, Lady Gaiheart, is to have a party for the Irish Archaeological School. And Mrs L. G. Lawson is bringing over some of her friends from the Villa Sophonisba.’
Miss O’Brookomore began muffling a foot up in a silver-spangled shoe.
‘Had I been told earlier I’d have gone into Corinth,’ she said.
‘No doubt you’d have found Miss Dawkins there.’
‘My dear, she’s in Olympia. She arrived this afternoon. I overheard her telling her father’s chest-measurements to the boy that works the lift.’
‘And I dare say half-seas-over?’
‘Poor thing.’
‘Oh, she’s so common, Gerald!’
‘I should like to be on a balcony, miss, for the Recognition.’
‘I dare say she’ll be made to display her birthmarks first.’
‘There’s no need, miss – if you’ll pardon me – for birthmarks with a face like that.’
‘Brute! … You’ve pricked me …’
The sound of the dinner-gong came dwindling up.
‘Oh, the way they beat it!’
Miss O’Brookomore smothered a sigh.
‘It might be the Ramadan!’ she declared.