Amid general acclaim, the top-lofty, overburdened hats were consigned to a butler. Every one began to chatter on a higher key, across the constant rise of laughter. Georgie Gwynne, installed by the Royal Observer, saucy and unabashed, was saying: "Well, Kink, how do you like us?" In another moment the Comte de Joncy, sublimely content, was being initiated into the art of eating brandied cherries from the ripe lips of Violetta Pax and Georgie Gwynne. From the moment Doré had taken off her toque, Sassoon and Harrigan Blood had not ceased to stare at her. "A hat is not becoming to me," she said to Harrigan Blood, and added: "Besides, I have nothing to conceal." Amid the pyramided and confectioned head-dresses, the simplicity of her own, playing about her forehead like a golden cloud, stood out. For the first time, her youth and naturalness appeared, depending on no artifice. Harrigan Blood did not go to what attracted him by four ways, or around a hill. "You don't belong to this crowd," he said pointblank. "Don't lie to me! What are you?" "The story of my life?" she said. "It's getting to the time, isn't it?" "You know what I mean," he said roughly. "People don't often interest me. You do! I've been watching you. Do you want backing?" She was surprised--genuinely so. She had felt that Blood was different--too powerful, too merciless, to be caught as other men were caught. She did not look up at him, as others would have, but remained smiling down at the cloth, running her mischievous fingers through the low dish of yellow pansies before her. And, with the same averted look, which brought her a complete understanding of the impetuousness of his attack, she felt Sassoon's awakened stare and the scrutiny of Judge Massingale, who, while he pretended to talk to Paula Stuart, was listening with a concentrated interest. She was pleased, quite satisfied with herself. Only Lindaberry remained. "You are very impulsive, aren't you?" she said slowly. "On the stage? A beginner?" She nodded. "Come to me--at my office, any afternoon, after five." And he added, without lowering his voice: "If you're after a career, don't waste your time on this sort. I can put you in a day where you want." She rose to take her seat on his right, next to Lindaberry. "Will you come?" he said, detaining her. "Why not?" she said, lifting her eyes, with a little affectation of surprise at so simple a question. During her progress about the table she had kept Lindaberry in mind, with a lurking sense of antagonism, a desire to return to the attack, to punish him further. A certain grace that he had, which appealed to her instinct, the quality of instinctive elegance, only increased her resentment. At the bottom, the intensity of this resentment surprised her--without her being able to analyze it.