"gp46w10" - читать интересную книгу автора (Parker Gilbert)

Then he passed on, and sat down to Sir William's courteous gesture. The
situation had its difficulties for the guests--perfect guests as they
were. Every one was aware of a dramatic incident, for which there had
been no preparation save Sir William's remark that a grandson had arrived
from the North Pole or thereabouts; and to continue conversation and
appear casual put their resources to some test. But they stood it well,
though. their eyes were busy, and the talk was cheerfully mechanical.
So occupied were they with Gaston's entrance, that they did not know
how near Lady Dargan came to fainting.

At the button-hole of the coat worn by Gaston hung a tiny piece of red
ribbon which she had drawn from her sleeve on the terrace twenty-seven
years ago, and tied there with the words:

"Do you think you will wear it till we meet again?" And the man had
replied:

"You'll not see me without it, pretty girl--pretty girl."

A woman is not so unaccountable after all. She has more imagination than
a man; she has not many resources to console her for disappointments, and
she prizes to her last hour the swift moments when wonderful things
seemed possible. That man is foolish who shows himself jealous of a
woman's memories or tokens--those guarantees of her womanliness.

When Lady Dargan saw the ribbon, which Gaston in his hurry had not
disturbed, tied exactly as she had tied it, a weird feeling came to her,
and she felt choking. But her sister's eyes were on her, and Mrs.
Gasgoyne's voice came across the table clearly:

"Sophie, what were Fred Bideford's colours at Sandown? You always
remember that kind of thing." The warning was sufficient. Lady Dargan
could make no effort of memory, but she replied without hesitation--or
conscience:

"Yellow and brown."

"There," said Mrs. Gasgoyne, "we are both wrong, Captain Maudsley.
Sophie never makes a mistake." Maudsley assented politely, but, stealing
a look at Lady Dargan, wondered what the little by-play meant. Gaston
was between Sir William and Mrs. Gasgoyne. He declined soup and fish,
which had just been served, because he wished for time to get his
bearings. He glanced at the menu as if idly interested, conscious that
he was under observation. He felt that he had, some how, the situation
in his hands. Everything had gone well, and he knew that his part had
been played with some aplomb--natural, instinctive. Unlike most large
men, he had a mind always alert, not requiring the inspiration of unusual
moments. What struck him most forcibly now was the tasteful courtesy
which had made his entrance easy. He instinctively compared it to the
courtesy in the lodge of an Indian chief, or of a Hudson's Bay factor who