"Really, you are--much too good. I can't imagine--if
the case had been reversed--"
Mr. Jasper found himself, accustomed as he was to the
exigencies of London drawing-rooms, horribly in want of
words. And in the bow with which he further defined his
discomfort he added to it by dropping the bit of stephanotis
which he wore in his buttonhole.
Elfrida sprang to pick it up. "Oh," she cried, "broken at
the stem; see, you cannot wear it anymore. May I keep it?"
A deadly silence had been widening around them, and now
the daughter of the historian of the Semitic races broke
it by twittering into a laugh behind her fan. Janet met
Kendal's eyes instinctively; he was burning red, and his
manner was eloquent of his helplessness. Angry with
herself for having waited, so long, Janet joined Elfrida
just as the twitter made itself heard, and Mr. Jasper's
face began to stiffen with indignation.
"Ah, Miss Cardiff," he said with relief, "how do you do!
The rooms are rather warm, don't you think?"
"I want to introduce you to my Am--my very great friend,
Miss Bell, Mr. Jasper," Janet said quickly, as the buzz
of conversation began again about them.
Elfrida turned to her reproachfully.
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