Mrs. Twining turned her head. Her cool grey eyes held a gleam of amusement. "Of course!" she said softly. "Gobbling noises!"
Dinah blushed. "You weren't meant to hear that, Mrs. Twining. But he does, you know."
"He always did," replied Mrs. Twining. "Geoffrey, my dear, I really think you would be wise to take Dinah's advice. Already this party seems to me to be showing signs of wear."
"It wouldn't be any good," said Geoffrey. "She doesn't like to be hurried."
His voice, breaking a momentary lull in the noise of conversation, attracted the attention of Mrs. Chudleigh. She came towards him immediately, various gold chains which she wore about her neck chinking together as she exclaimed. "Why, here is Geoffrey!" she exclaimed, holding out her hand. "I actually didn't see you. I must really have my glasses seen to. And how are you? What a long time it seems since we met!"
"Yes, I've been in town," said Geoffrey, shaking hands.
"Very busy with your writing, I expect," nodded Mrs. Chudleigh. "I read a little verse of yours in a magazine not so long ago. Of course I didn't understand it, but it was very clever, I'm sure. I used to scribble verses myself when I was young — not that they were ever good enough to be printed. We used to write them in one another's autograph albums, but I believe that has quite gone out of fashion."
Geoffrey, who perpetrated, very seriously, fugitive poems without rhyme or (said the uninitiated), reason, shuddered visibly and mumbled something in his throat.
"You must tell me all about yourself," invited Mrs. Chudleigh paralysingly. "I expect you meet a great many interesting people up in London and have quite a gay time with all your writing friends."
The General's voice interrupted her. "I don't know how long your — fiancée — intends to keep us waiting for dinner, but I should like to point out to you that it is now ten minutes past eight," he said with awful emphasis.
At that Mrs. Chudleigh's eyes gleamed with interest, and she said: "Well! So you're engaged to be married, Geoffrey! I had no idea! And is your fiancée actually staying here? This is quite an occasion, then! An engagement-party!"
"Nothing of the sort!" said Sir Arthur, who had been betrayed into divulging Lola's identity through his inability to bring himself to utter her confounded outlandish name.
Mrs. Chudleigh looked sharply from him to Geoffrey, scenting discord. "Well, I am sure this is a great surprise," she declared. "Quite unexpected! I am most anxious to meet her, though I feel quite sorry for her having to enter a roomful of people all staring at her."
The door was flung open; there was just a moment's pause, sufficient to allow every one time to turn their heads, and Miss de Silva swam into the room.
It was easy to see what had made her late. Her raven locks, which she had worn earlier in the day in ringlets low on her neck, had all been curled and frizzed into a stiff mass up the back of her head to form a sort of halo for her face. She was made up in the Parisian style — a dead white with vivid red lips and heavily blacked eyelashes. She wore a frock of black velvet rising to a point at the base of her throat and held there by a diamond collar. It fitted her like a glove; it was utterly plain, with a long train lined with scarlet, and no back at all until her trim waist was reached. A quantity of diamond (or, as Mrs. Chudleigh strongly suspected, paste) bracelets glittered up each arm, and in one hand she carried a fan of cock's feathers dyed scarlet. She was arresting, magnificent, and quite incongruous, and her appearance rendered her host speechless.
"I am late, that is certain," she announced, "but I shall not be blamed, because it was the fault of Geoffrey, who was so stupid to bring me in a little car that would not take my luggage. And I do not drink cocktails with gin: they are to me quite abominable. So there is not the need to wait any longer for dinner, and I do not disarrange my one at all."
The Vicar bent towards Dinah's ear, and, with an intonation of incredulity, inquired in the peculiarly penetrating whisper of all deaf persons: "I beg your pardon. Did I understand you to say that it was Geoffrey's fiancée?"
"Yes," said Dinah, carefully averting her gaze from Mrs. Chudleigh's stiffening form. "Er — yes." Then she unwisely allowed herself to look at Sir Arthur, and felt uncontrollable laughter bubbling up. She retired hastily into the background.
Fay was introducing Lola to the assembled company with an air of spurious brightness. Mrs. Twining said in her faintly drawling way: "My dear, I am sure there is no need to introduce Miss de Silva, for we must all have heard of her, and of her dancing."
"It is true," agreed Lola affably. "I am very famous, not only in England, but everywhere."
"Dinner is served, my lady," said Finch, enacting Providence from the doorway.
The General wheeled round, and, still speechless, offered his arm to Mrs. Twining.
Behind them, in sedate couples, the rest of the guests walked in to dinner.
The dining-room lay at the end of the hall, and was on the opposite side of the front door to the study. It was a large, somewhat sombre apartment, with mahogany furniture and crimson hangings. A number of dark-looking oil paintings in very massive gilt frames hung on the walls, and to one of these, unfortunately placed in her direct line of vision, Lola took instant exception. It depicted, with faithful verisimilitude, a large assortment of garden produce, scattered most unsuitably round a brace of pheasants and a dead hare. Lola had hardly seated herself when she caught sight of this masterpiece, and she at once uttered an outraged cry and got up again. "Ah, but it is impossible that I should sit opposite to that picture, which I find entirely disgusting. There is a dead animal with blood on it, and I shall immediately faint if I must look at it."
"It's only a hare, darling," said Geoffrey, feeling that it was for him to smooth over this breach.
"But naturally I can see that it is a hare. I am not blind. And I must tell you that to see a hare is extremely unlucky. I am already quite upset, but I perceive that it is not possible to remove such a big picture. It will be better if I sit where I cannot look at it."
The General found his voice. "Upon my soul!" he burst out. "Do you imagine, young woman, that I am going to remove my pictures to please -"
Dinah sprang up. "All right," she said hurriedly. "Change places with me, Miss de Silva."
Lola walked composedly round the table and sat down between Francis and the Vicar. "So it arranges itself," she said.
The Vicar, who had turned round to study the offending picture in all its detail, addressed her with an interested and more kindly light in his eye. "You do not like things to be killed, Miss de Silva? I am sure we must all sympathise with you."
"I do not mind that they should be killed, but I do not at all like to see a picture of a dead hare with blood on its nose when I am to eat my dinner," replied Lola firmly.
Since the Vicar was a vegetarian and a pacifist this remark was not a happy one, and he drew back, disappointed and perturbed. His wife, always his champion, bucklering him against the world with a kind of fierce protectiveness, at once entered into the discussion and said across the table: "We do not all consider it folly to disapprove of bloodshed, I can assure you, Miss de Silva. A great many people today consider all bloodshed to be wrong."
"In my country," said Lola, applying herself to her soup, "we do not think that."
"Lola is a Mexican, you know," confided Geoffrey, seated next to Mrs. Chudleigh.
"A Mexican!" echoed Mrs. Chudleigh. "Oh, dear me! Of course that would account for it. Such a dreadful country! One feels that something ought to be done about it, but then they're all Roman Catholics, aren't they? And so Miss de Silva is a dancer, I think you said? On the stage, of course? Well, I always say it takes all sorts to make a world, and I hope I am sufficiently broad-minded… I see you have Mr. Guest staying with you again. He is quite a frequent visitor, is he not?"