to you. I'm so sorry
I haven't time to drive you down to Madison Square."

Clavering, drawing a long breath as if he had escaped from imminent
danger, saw her into her car and then walked briskly home. He intended
to dine alone tonight. And in a moment he had forgotten Anne Goodrich
as completely as he had forgotten Janet Oglethorpe.

XXVIII

He called for Madame Zattiany at ten o'clock. This time she was
standing in the hall as the man opened the door, and she came out
immediately. A lace scarf almost concealed her face.

"I didn't order the car," she said. "It is such a fine night, and she
lives so near. Do you mind?"

"I much prefer to walk, but your slippers----"

"They are dark and the heels not too high."

"I'm not going to make the slightest preliminary attempt at
indifference tonight, nor wait for one of your leads. How long do you
intend to stay at this party?"

"Oh, an hour, possibly. One must not be rude." Her own tones were not
even, but he could not see her face.

"But you'll keep your word and tell me everything tonight?"

She gave a deep sigh. "Yes, I'll keep my word. No more
now--please! . . . Tell me, what do they do at these parties besides
talk--dance?"

"Not always. They have charades, spelling matches, pick a word out of
a hat and make impromptu speeches----"

"But _Mon dieu_!" She stopped short and pushed back her scarf.
Whatever expression she may have wished to conceal there was nothing
now in her face but dismay. "But you did not tell me this or I should
not have accepted. I never bore myself. I understood these were your
intellectuals. Charades! Spelling matches! Words in the hat! It
sounds like a small town moved to New York."

"Well, a good many of them are from small towns and they rather pride
themselves on preserving some of the simplicities of rural life and
juvenescence, while leading an exaggerated mental life for which nature
designed no man. Perhaps it is merely owing to an obscure warning to
preserve the balance. Or an innocent arrogance akin to Mrs.
Oglethorpe's when she is looking her dowdiest. . . . But Gora often
has good music . . . still, if you don't want to go on I'm sure I do
not."

"No," she said hurriedly. "I shall go. But--I am still astonished. I
do not know what I expected. But brilliant conversation, probably,
such as one hears in a European salon. Don't they relax their great
minds at outdoor sports? I understan