<h3 id="id00260" style="margin-top: 3em">CHAPTER V</h3>
<p id="id00261">The Surprise</p>
<p id="id00262">Certainly Mrs Mitchell on one side and Captain Willis on the other had
suffered neglect. But they seemed to become hardened to it towards the
end of dinner….</p>
<p id="id00263">'I have a boy, too,' Aylmer remarked irrelevantly, 'rather a nice chap.<br/>
Just ten.'<br/></p>
<p id="id00264">Though only by the merest, slightest movement of an eyelash Edith could
not avoid showing her surprise. No-one ever had less the air of a
married man. Also, she was quite ridiculously disappointed. One can't
say why, but one doesn't talk to a married man quite in the same way or
so frankly as to a bachelor—if one is a married woman. She did not ask
about his wife, but said:</p>
<p id="id00265">'Fancy! Boys are rather nice things to have about, aren't they?'</p>
<p id="id00266">She was looking round the table, trying to divine which was Mrs Aylmer
Ross. No, she wasn't there. Edith felt sure of it. It was an
unaccountable satisfaction.</p>
<p id="id00267">'Yes; he's all right. And now give me a detailed description of <i>your</i>
children.'</p>
<p id="id00268">'I can't. I never could talk about them.'</p>
<p id="id00269">'I see…. I should like to see them…. I saw you speak to Vincy. Dear
little fellow, isn't he?'</p>
<p id="id00270">'He's a great friend of mine.'</p>
<p id="id00271">'I'm tremendously devoted to him, too. He's what used to be called an
exquisite. And he <i>is</i> exquisite; he has an exquisite mind. But, of
course, you know what a good sort he is.'</p>
<p id="id00272">'Rather.'</p>
<p id="id00273">'He seems rather to look at life than to act in it, doesn't he?'
continued Aylmer. 'He's a brilliant sort of spectator. Vincy thinks
that all the world's a stage, but <i>he's</i> always in the front row of the
stalls. I never could be like that … I always want to be right in the
thick of it, on in every scene, and always performing!'</p>
<p id="id00274">'To an audience?' said Edith.</p>
<p id="id00275">He smiled and went on.</p>
<p id="id00276">'What's so jolly about him is that though he's so quiet, yet he's
genial; not chilly and reserved. He's frank, I mean—and confiding.
Without ever saying much. He expresses himself in his own way.'</p>
<p id="id00277">'That's quite true.'</p>
<p id="id00278">'And, after all, it's really only expression that makes things real.<br/>
'If you don't talk about a thing, it has never happened.''<br/></p>
<p id="id00279">'But it doesn't always follow that a thing has happened because you do
talk about it,' said Edith. 'Ah, Mrs Mitchell's going !'</p>
<p id="id00280">She floated away.</p>
<p id="id00281">He remained in a rather ecstatic state of absence of mind.</p>
<p id="id00282"> * * * * *</p>
<p id="id00283">Mrs Mitchell gladly told Edith all about Aylmer Ross, how clever he
was, how nice, how devoted to his little boy. He had married very
young, it seemed, and had lost his wife two years after. This was ten
years ago, and according to Mrs Mitchell he had never looked at another
woman since. Women love to simplify in this sentimental way.</p>
<p id="id00284">'However,' she said consolingly, 'he's still quite young, under forty,
and he's sure to fall in love and marry again.'</p>
<p id="id00285">'No doubt,' said Edith, wishing the first wife had remained alive. She
disliked the non-existent second one.</p>
<p id="id00286"> * * * * *</p>
<p id="id00287">Nearly all the men had now joined the ladies in the studio, with the
exception of Bruce and of Aylmer Ross. Mrs Mitchell had taken an
immense fancy to Edith and showed it by telling her all about a
wonderful little tailor who made coats and skirts better than Lucile
for next to nothing, and by introducing to her Lord Rye and the embassy
man, and Mr Cricker. Edith was sitting in a becoming corner under a
shaded light from which she could watch the door, when Vincy came up to
talk to her.</p>
<p id="id00288">'You seemed to get on rather well at dinner,' he said.</p>
<p id="id00289">'Yes; isn't Captain Willis a dear?'</p>
<p id="id00290">'Oh, simply sweet. So bright and clever. I was sure you'd like him,<br/>
Edith.'<br/></p>
<p id="id00291">Captain Willis here came up and said, a shade more jovially than he had
spoken at dinner, with his laugh:</p>
<p id="id00292">'Well, you know, Mrs Ottley, what I always say is—live and let live
and let it go at that; what? But they never <i>do</i>, you know! They
won't—and there it is!'</p>
<p id="id00293">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 êtes chez vous, quand? Dites un mot, un mot
seulement, et je me précipiterai à 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 <i>Elektra, The Chocolate
Soldier</i> and <i>Nightbirds</i> 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.</p>
<p id="id00294">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.</p>
<p id="id00295">Bruce had now at last left his companion, but still Aylmer Ross did not
go and speak to her, though he was sitting alone.</p>
<p id="id00296">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 passed Aylmer:</p>
<p id="id00297">'I thought we were going to have a talk instead of playing games?'</p>
<p id="id00298">'I saw you were occupied,' he answered ceremoniously. 'I didn't
like—to interrupt.'</p>
<p id="id00299">She laughed. 'Is this a jealous scene, Mr Ross?'</p>
<p id="id00300">'I wonder,' he said, smiling, 'and if so, whose. Well, I hope to see
you again soon.'</p>
<p id="id00301">'<i>What</i> a success your charming wife has had tonight,' said Mrs
Mitchell to Bruce, as they took leave. 'Everyone is quite wild about
her. How pretty she is! You <i>must</i> be proud of her.'</p>
<p id="id00302">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.</p>
<p id="id00303">'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.'</p>
<p id="id00304">'Oh—who was that?'</p>
<p id="id00305">'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.'</p>
<p id="id00306">'Oh, did you?'</p>
<p id="id00307">'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.'</p>
<p id="id00308">'Oh, are we going to give a dinner at the Carlton?'</p>
<p id="id00309">'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.'</p>
<p id="id00310">'Well, do you want me to write tomorrow morning then, dear?'</p>
<p id="id00311">'Er—no—I have asked him already.'</p>
<p id="id00312">'Oh, really—which day?'</p>
<p id="id00313">'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!'</p>
<p id="id00314">'Oh no; I'm not engaged.'</p>
<p id="id00315">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.</p>
<p id="id00316">'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!'</p>
<p id="id00317">'But—really! Ought we to snatch all the Mitchells' friends the first
time, Bruce?'</p>
<p id="id00318">'Why, of course, it's only courteous. It's all right. One must return
their hospitality.'</p>
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