“She’s nobody’s friend. She either just shows up at tea time and manages to walk in with someone else, or she makes everyone come to perfectly horrible parties—she uses marshmallows in her salads and starts off with hot wine and I’m sure none of that rot is southern—so that she has to be asked back.”

Miss Pride had observed the approach of the bore and quickly guided the Countess along to meet her, then seized Mrs. Choate and marched her back to us. “Of course I think,” said Hopestill, “that the Negroes are the coming race.”

The Countess leaned over and embraced Hopestill. “To use that word you’re so fond of, Cousin Hope, you’re too ‘advanced’ for me. So I’m going to leave before I hear why you think the Negroes are the coming race. You have frightened me enough already with your threat that Dali and Chirico will come into their own and reign forever. I couldn’t bear to have the blackamoors reigning too! I love you! Good-by! Come along, Mrs. Choate, I’ll drop you.”

Miss Pride, to my astonishment, murmured to me, “From the top of a high building, I hope.”

Our hostess went out with the ladies and from the vestibule, we heard her say, “Mrs. Choate, there is an article on New Orleans in a recent issue of The Atlantic that ought to interest you.”

“Really? I never read The Atlantic. I just skim it the way I do the Bible.” The Countess chuckled, but Miss Pride said coldly, “Some other day I must ask you to explain that provocative remark.” There were brief adieux and afterwards Miss Pride went upstairs to dress.

The emptied room seemed smaller, for it was now quite dark at the windows and the pale lamps revealed only their immediate environs. We moved toward the fire. I knew that I should leave Hopestill and the doctor, but the cocktails had made me careless and drowsy. I did not want to lose my warmth by going up to my room where the fire had probably died.

“Sonia—that’s all right, isn’t it?—made a conquest of the Countess, Perly.”

“That’s only Berthe’s way.”

“You mean she loves all young girls?” said Hopestill with a laugh. “Tell me: How did you find us?”

“Oh, Hope!” protested the doctor.

“Don’t be absurd, Philip! She didn’t miss anything. Haven’t I the right to know the total impression she’s got?”

“I had a pleasant afternoon,” I said. I could have added that this termination of it was as disagreeable as anything I had ever encountered.

Hopestill extended me her small hand which, in my clasp, was as lifeless as the hand of a sawdust doll. “It’s been so nice to meet you, Sonia. The best of luck.”