We
can go down now. By the way"--she pinned the orchids at her waist
with unnecessary attention--"Selwyn got back yesterday. He will be
here to-night. Dick Moran is sick, and Selwyn is taking his place. At
first he declined to come. For weeks he's been going nowhere, but he
finally promised. Are you ready?"
Without looking around she went out of the room, and without answering
her I followed. I was conscious chiefly of a desire to get away, to do
anything but meet Selwyn where each would have to play a part; but as I
entered Kitty's drawing-room and later met her guests I crowded back
all else but what was due her, spoke in turn to each, and then to
Selwyn, as if between us there was no terrifying, unbridged gulf.
Kitty's dinners are perfect. I am ever amazed at the care and
consideration she gives to their ordering. In art and letters she is
not learned, but she is an expert in the management of household
affairs, and her dinner invitations are rarely declined.
At the table, with its lilacs and valley-lilies, its soft lights and
perfect appointments, were old friends of mine and new acquaintances of
hers, and with the guest of honor I shared their curiosity.
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