Wrenn tried to think of something to say....
Good Lord, suppose Istra "queered" him at Mrs. Arty's!...
Then he was angry at himself and all of them for not
appreciating her. How exquisite she looked, with her tired
white face!
As the soup-plates were being removed by Annie, the maid, with
an elaborate confusion and a general passing of plates down the
line, Istra Nash peered at the maid petulantly. Mrs. Arty
frowned, then grew artificially pleasant and said:
"Miss Nash has just come back from Paris. She's a regular
European traveler, just like Mr. Wrenn."
Mrs. Samuel Ebbitt piped: "Mr. Ebbitt was to Europe. In 1882."
"No 'twa'n't, Fannie; 'twas in 1881," complained Mr. Ebbitt.
Miss Nash waited for the end of this interruption as though it
were a noise which merely had to be endured, like the Elevated.
Twice she drew in her breath to speak, and the whole table laid
its collective knife and fork down to listen. All she said was:
"Oh, will you pardon me if I speak of it now, Mrs. Ferrard, but
would you mind letting me have my breakfast in my room
to-morrow? About nine? Just something simple--a canteloupe
and some shirred eggs and chocolate?"
"Oh no; why, yes, certainly, "mumbled Mrs.
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