Captain Patch brought her and they arrived on foot. Mrs. Leeds happened to be out of the room, giving final orders to one of the chauffeurs, and there was a moment’s awkwardness. We were all assembled in the big drawing-room and Lady Annabel, for whom we waited instinctively, made no move at all. Alfred Kendal said, “Hullo, Patch!” rather feebly and Mrs. Harter stood by the door, waiting. I looked at Claire. She had flushed a little and was obviously undecided what line to take. And then Mary Ambrey got up and walked down the length of the room and shook hands with her and said very clearly: “How do you do, Mrs. Harter? Mrs. Leeds has just gone out to see about the car, I believe. She’ll be back in a second or two. How brave of you to walk, in this heat!” It was very like Mary, and more like her still to do it with perfect calm, and the most absolute naturalness. I doubt if she even knew that we all drew a breath of intense relief, as she stood there, talking quietly, till Mrs. Leeds came dashing in at one of the French windows. “That was rather finely done,” I heard Martyn murmuring in my ear, with his insufferable accent of patronizing approval. Claire heard him, too, and I saw that she was vexed. She had missed an opportunity of making what, from her, would have been a very beautiful gesture. The last guests to arrive were General and Mrs. Kendal with two of the girls. Puppa is the most punctual of men, but he admits that he cannot always estimate the time that it will take to drive anywhere in the new car. I suppose that it depends upon the number and promptitude of Mumma’s warning outbursts on the road. As they entered, our host made his appearance. Leeds, what with his wealth, and a fine presence, and one of the loudest voices that I have ever heard in my life, is only to be described as an overwhelming man. He was very hearty and enthusiastic, and welcomed us all, especially Mrs. Harter, to whom he immediately shouted: “Last time we met, someone bet you wouldn’t drink six cocktails in succession, and you did it. By Jove, I’ve never forgotten it! Lounge of Shepherd’s Hotel, wasn’t it? Never saw a more sporting collection in my life, than we had that evening. You ought to have been there.” I think that he uttered the last clause in an indiscriminate sort of way to all of us, perhaps conscious that his audience was not, so to speak, altogether with him. But it was a little unfortunate that the people immediately facing him happened to be Lady Annabel and Mrs. Kendal. It was so extraordinarily evident to the rest of us that they did not at all feel that they ought to have been there, on the occasion of Mrs. Harter’s rather singular achievement. Leeds, however, alternates between a childlike touchiness and an egotistical obtuseness, and this time he was obtuse.