"I knew his father and
his uncle quite well, in those happy days before the war, when one
used to move from country to country."
"Diplomatic type of features," the General remarked, who hated all
foreigners. "It's rather bad luck on them," he went on, with
bland insularity, "that the men of the European neutrals--Dutch,
Danish, Norwegians or Swedes--all resemble Germans so much more
than Englishmen."
The Baron turned towards Catherine and ventured upon a whispered
compliment. She was wearing a wonderful pre-war dress of black
velvet, close-fitting yet nowhere cramping her naturally
delightful figure. A rope of pearls hung from her neck--her only
ornament.
"It is permitted, Countess, to express one's appreciation of your
toilette?" he ventured.
"In England it is not usual," she reminded him, with a smile, "but
as you are such an old friend of the family, we will call it
permissible. It is, as a matter of fact, the last gown I had from
Paris. Nowadays, one thinks of other things."
"You are one of the few women," he observed, "who mix in the great
affairs and yet remain intensely feminine."
"Just now," she sighed, "the great affairs do not please me."
"Yet they are interesting," he replied. "The atmosphere at the
present moment is electric, charged with all manner of strange
possibilities. But we talk too seriously. Will you not let me
know the names of some of your guests? With General Crossley I am
already acquainted."
"They really don't count for very much," she said, a little
carelessly.
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