Mrs. Barberry, of course, rushed
upon the spear, as she always did, and made a gushing little speech,
with every eye upon her, in the middle of the room, without a thought of
consequences. The Aide-de-Camp was also _empresse_, one would have
thought that he was acting himself, the way he bowed and picked up
Hilda's fan--a grace lingered in it from the minuet he had danced the
week before, in ruffles and patches, with the daughter of the
Commander-in-Chief. Duff got out of the way to enable the
newly-introduced Head of the Department of Education to inform Miss Howe
that he never went to the theatre in Calcutta himself, it was much too
badly ventilated; and Stephen Arnold, arriving late, shot like an
embarrassed arrow through the company to Alicia's side, and was still
engaged there in grieved explanation when dinner was announced.
There were pink water-lilies, and Stephen said grace--those were the
pictorial features. Half of the people had taken their seats when he
began; there was a hasty scramble, and a decorous, half-checked smile.
Hilda, at the first word of the brief formula, blushed hotly; then she
stood while he spoke, with bowed head and clasped hands, like a
reverently inclining statue.
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