“I’ve met some of them in Scotland. Wasn’t there a Miss Jannan who did something extraordinary? I remember a row in the New York papers. Didn’t she--” Mark laughed, “Ran off with a married man. They’ve got a couple of kids, too.” “Doesn’t that domestic touch redeem the performance, Mark?” Mark chuckled and drawled, “Now, here! You make out you’re a wild eyed radical and so on. Suppose some girl that ought to know better came and lived next you in Chelsea with a married man. Ask her to dinner?” “I cheerfully would if I thought her worth knowing, gentle Puritan! If I thought she was simply a sloppy, uncontrolled sentimentalist I should no more bother myself than I would to meet a society preacher or some hero of the Russian ballet who’s paid a hundred guineas a night to exhibit his abdominal surface in the name of art.... Six o’clock. I should tub, myself. I’ve several cinders on my spine. Run along, both of you.” Mark said on the way to the elevators, “Olive’s a wonder, ain’t she, bud? Don’t know why but she always puts me in mind of your dad. Calm and cool.--Oh, say, tomorrow’s your mamma’s birthday!” “It is. And I’m going up to the farm, after lunch. ‘Todgers Intrudes’ has got me--” “Shut up,” said Mark, seeing Cosmo Rand ringing the button for the elevator. He beamed at the actor and asked in the car, “Mrs. Rand went back to New York?” “Yes. Just been talking to her by ’phone. They started the film of ‘Camille’ today. Very trying, she said. They’ve some promoted cowboy playing Armand.--I say, I’ve some quite decent gin in my flask. We might have a cocktail.” Gurdy thought how clever the man was to wear grey, increasing his height and embellishing his rosy skin. He understood dress expertly. At the Jannan dance, toward midnight, a girl told him that she’d just come from a “simply idiotic play” but praised Rand’s appearance. “Englishmen do turn themselves out so well.” The dance was supported by sparkling Moselle and Gurdy didn’t have to perform with Margot. She found friends. He was summoned to be introduced to a young Mrs. Calder who at once invited him to dine the next evening. Gurdy excused himself on the score of his mother’s birthday. As they drove away from the emptying house Margot explained, “Peggy Calder’s nice. She was in the Red Cross in London. You’re really going up to the farm?” “Certainly.” She said nothing, restless in her dark cloak for a time then chattered about the Jannan grandeur. She enjoyed spectacles. The great suburban house and the green ballroom pleased her. “But you people drink too much, you know? Mrs. Jannan’s a second wife, isn’t she? Rather pretty. Heavens, what a long way back to the hotel!” “You’re tired.” “Frightfully. And blue.... Can’t you make dad try ‘Todgers’ in New York, Gurdy?” Directly and with a sharp motion she added, “No. That’s utterly silly. I’ve no business asking it.... But I do feel--And yet I don’t know the New York taste--You really think it wouldn’t do?”