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<h3 id="id00319" style="margin-top: 3em">CHAPTER VI</h3> 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 amusement, 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 accumulate; 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.' 'He seems charming,' he repeated, then said with a change of tone and with his occasional impulsive brusqueness, 'I wonder—does he ever jar on you in any way?' 'Oh no. Never. He couldn't. He amuses me,' Edith replied softly. 'Oh, does he?… If I had the opportunity I wonder if I should amuse you,' he spoke thoughtfully. 'No; I don't think you would at all,' said Edith, looking him straight in the face. 'That's quite fair,' he laughed, and seemed rather pleased. 'You mean I should bore you to death! Do forgive me, Mrs Ottley. Let's go on with our talk of last night…. I feel it's rather like the Palace of Truth here; I don't know why. There must be something in the atmosphere—I seem to find it difficult not to think aloud—Vincy, now—do you see much of Vincy?' 'Oh yes; he comes here most days, or we talk on the telephone.' 'I see; he's your confidant, and you're his. Dear Vincy. By the way, he asked me last night to go to a tea-party at his flat next week. He was going to ask one or two other kindred spirits—as I think they're called. To see something—some collection. Including you, of course?' 'I shall certainly go,' said Edith, 'whether he asks me or not.' Aylmer seemed to be trying to leave. He nearly got up once or twice and sat down again. 'Well, I shall see you tonight,' he said. 'At eight.' 'Yes.' 'What shall you wear, Mrs Ottley?' 'Oh, I thought, perhaps, my mauve chiffon? What do you advise?' she smiled. 'Not what you wore last night?' 'Oh no.' 'It was very jolly. I liked it. Er—red, wasn't it?' 'Oh no! It was pink!' she answered. Then there was an extraordinary pause, in which neither of them seemed able to think of anything to say. There was a curious sort of vibration in the air. 'Isn't it getting quite springy?' said Edith, as she glanced at the window. 'It's one of those sort of warm days that seem to have got mixed up by mistake with the winter.' 'Very,' was his reply, which was not very relevant. Another pause was beginning. 'Mr Vincy,' announced the servant. He was received with enthusiasm, and Aylmer Ross now recovered his ease and soon went away. 'Edith!' said Vincy, in a reproving tone. 'Really! How very soon!' 'He came to know what time we dine. He was just passing.' 'Oh, yes. He would want to know. He lives in Jermyn Street. I suppose Knightsbridge is on his way to there.' 'From where?' she asked. 'From here,' said Vincy. 'What happened after we left?' said Edith. 'I saw the Cricker man beginning to dance with hardly anyone looking at him.' 'Isn't his imitation of Nijinsky wonderful?' asked Vincy. 'Simply marvellous! I thought he was imitating George Grossmith. Do you know, I love the Mitchells, Vincy. It's really great fun there. Fancy, Bruce seems so delighted with Aylmer Ross and Miss Mooney that he insisted on their both dining with us tonight.' 'He seemed rather carried away, I thought. There's a fascination about Aylmer. There are so many things he's not,' said Vincy. 'Tell me some of them.' 'Well, for one thing, he's not fatuous, though he's so good-looking. He's not a lady-killing sort of person or anything else tedious.' She was delighted at this especially. 'If he took a fancy to a person—well, it might be rather serious, if you take my meaning,' said Vincy. 'How sweet of him! So unusual. Do you like Myra Mooney?' 'Me? Oh, rather; I'm devoted to her. She's a delightful type. Get her on to the subject of the red carnations. She's splendid about them…. She received them every day at breakfast-time for fifteen years. Another jolly thing about Aylmer is that he has none of that awful old-fashioned modernness, thank goodness!' 'Ah, I noticed that.' 'I suppose he wasn't brilliant today. He was too thrilled. But, do be just a teeny bit careful, Edith dear, because when he is at all he's very much so. Do you see?' 'What a lot you seem to think of one little visit, Vincy! After all, it was only one.' 'There hasn't been time yet for many more, has there, Edith dear? He could hardly call twice the same day, on the first day, too…. Yes, I come over quite queer and you might have knocked me down with a feather, in a manner of speaking, when I clapped eyes on him setting here.' Edith liked Vincy to talk in his favourite Cockney strain. It contrasted pleasantly with his soft, even voice and raffiné appearance. 'Here's Bruce,' she said. Bruce came in carrying an enormous basket of gilded straw. It was filled with white heather, violets, lilies, jonquils, gardenias and mimosa. The handle was trimmed with mauve ribbon. 'Oh, Bruce! How angelic of you!' 'Don't be in such a hurry, dear. These are not from me. They arrived just at the same time that I did. Brought by a commissionaire. There was hardly room for it in the lift.' Edith looked quickly at the card. It bore the name of the minister of the place with a name like Ruritania. 'What cheek!' exclaimed Bruce, who was really flattered. 'What infernal impertinence. Upon my word I've more than half a mind to go and tell him what I think of him—straight from the shoulder. What's the address?' 'Grosvenor Square.' 'Well, I don't care. I shall go straight to the embassy,' said Bruce. 'No, I sha'n't. I'll send them back and write him a line—tell him that Englishwomen are not in the habit of accepting presents from undesirable aliens…. I consider it a great liberty. Aren't I right, Vincy?' 'Quite. But perhaps he means no harm, Bruce. I daresay it's the custom in the place with the funny name. You see, you never know, in a place like that.' 'Then you don't think I ought to take it up?' 'I don't want them. It's a very oppressive basket,' Edith said. 'How like you, Edith! I thought you were fond of flowers.' 'So I am, but I like one at a time. This is too miscellaneous and crowded.' 'Some women are never satisfied. It's very rude and ungrateful to the poor old man, who meant to be nice, no doubt, and to show his respect for Englishwomen. I think you ought to write and thank him,' said Bruce. 'And let me see the letter before it goes.' <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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