The big pink and white dining-room at the Carlton was full tosuffocation of people, mixed odours of dinner, the blare of the bandjust outside, and a babel of voices. In the hall theatre-goers werehaving their coffee and cigarettes after dinner, while others werestill waiting, their patience fortified by bitters, for their partiesto assemble. The day had been very hot, and, as is the manner of daysin London when June is coming to an end, the hours for most people hereassembled had been pretty fully occupied, but with a courage worthy ofthe cause they seemed to behave as if nothing of a fatiguing naturehad occurred since breakfast. The band played loud because it wouldotherwise have been inaudible above the din of conversation, and peopletalked loud because otherwise nobody could have heard what anybody elsesaid. To-night everybody had a good deal to say, for a case of the kindthat always attracts a good deal of attention had just been given thatlengthy and head-lined publicity which is always considered in Englandto be inseparable from the true and indifferent administration ofjustice, and the vultures of London life found the banquet extremely totheir taste. So they ate their dinner with a sense of special gaiety,pecked ravenously at the aforesaid affair, and all talked loudlytogether. But nobody talked so loud as Mrs. Lewis S. Palmer.
It was said of her, indeed, that, staying for a week-end not long agowith some friend in the country, rain had been expected because one dayafter lunch a peacock was heard screaming so loud, but investigationshowed that it was only Mrs. Palmer, at a considerable distance awayon the terrace, laughing. Like the peacock, it is true, she had beenmaking la pluie et le beau temps in London this year, so the mistakewas accountable. At present, she was entertaining two young men at anante-opera dinner. A casual observer might have had the impressionthat she was clothed lightly but exclusively in diamonds. She talked,not fast, but without pause. She was in fact what may be called along-distance talker: in an hour she would get through much more thanmost people.
'Yes, London is just too lovely,' she was saying; 'and how I shall tearmyself away on Monday is more than I can imagine. I shall cry my eyesout all the way to Liverpool. Mr. Brancepeth, you naughty man, you werethinking to yourself that you would pick them up and carry them homewith you to remind you of me. I should advise you not to say so, or Ishall get Lord Keynes to call you out. I always tell everyone that hetakes as much care of me as if he were my father. Yes, Lord Keynes,you are what I call faithful. I say to everyone, Lord Keynes is themost faithful friend I ever had. Don't you think you are faithful,now? Well, as I was saying when Mr. Brancepeth interrupted me with hiswicked inquiries, I shall cry my eyes out. Indeed, if it wasn't thatLord Keynes had faithfully promised to come over in the fall, I think Ishould get a divorce from Lewis S. and remain here right along.'
'On what grounds?' asked Bertie Keynes.
'Why, on the grounds of his incompatibility of residence. Just now Ifeel as if the sight of Fifth Avenue would make me feel so homesick forLondon that I guess I should rupture something. When I am homesick Ifeel just like that, and Lewis S. he notices it at once, and sends toTiffany's for the most expensive diamond they've got. That helps some,because a new diamond is one of the solemnest things I know. It justsits there and winks at me, and I just sit there and wink at it. Weknow a thing or two, a big diamond and I. But I conjecture it will haveto be a big one to make