Part 5 (2/2)
She examined the inscription framed on the bars. ”Presented to the Society by Sir Mark Dougla.s.s.”
”No,” said Clarence Mills. ”That wasn't it. My sluggish memory will arouse presently, and then I shall be able to exhibit signs of intelligence.”
They were looking down from the terrace at the white bear in his pit, when a high voice came above the moderate tones of the crowd; Henry took Gertie's arm, and began to talk rapidly of Nansen and the North Pole, but this did not prevent her from glancing over her shoulder.
The people gave way to the owner of the insistent voice, and she, after inspection through pince-nez, made bitter complaint of the clumsiness of the bear, his murky appearance, the serious consequences of indiscriminate feeding. Henry endeavoured to detach the members of his party, but they appeared enthralled by the commanding tones.
”I thought we should meet again,” said the younger woman, addressing Henry.
”Miss Loriner,” he said to Gertie, with signs of reluctance. ”A friend of my sister-in-law.”
”I am Lady Dougla.s.s's companion,” remarked Miss Loriner.
”She seems ratty about something,” said Gertie.
”She has what they call the critical faculty,” mentioned the other, with a twinkle of the eye. ”I happen to be aware of the fact.”
Lady Dougla.s.s was looking around with the air of one searching for fresh subjects; Henry led Gertie to her, and made the introductions.
Lady Dougla.s.s expressed the view that the Gardens were horribly tiring, regretted her ill-luck in visiting on a crowded afternoon. ”But no misfortune,” she added wearily, ”seems to escape me!”
It was not until they descended the steps that the group had an opportunity for forming itself. Miss Loriner, recognizing the girl's perturbation of mind, took her ahead, thus foiling the intentions of Lady Dougla.s.s; they could hear her talking of literature to Clarence Mills in a patronizing way. Gertie's cousin said resolutely, ”But George Meredith never wrote a poem with that t.i.tle. You are thinking of Owen Meredith.” Lady Dougla.s.s answered, with pride, that she never troubled to remember the names of authors.
”Clarence is standing up to her,” remarked Gertie.
”She gets so little contradiction,” said Miss Loriner, ”that it will have all the charm of novelty. I daren't do it, of course.”
”You're thinking of your bread and b.u.t.ter.”
”That's about all I should have to eat if I lost this berth.”
”Wouldn't care for the job myself.”
”I can't do anything else,” explained Miss Loriner. ”Did you say your cousin was a journalist? I wish I could do something like that. I want to write a novel, badly.”
”That's probably how you would write it. Why, even Clarence is finding some trouble over the job. And he's got a brain.”
”I suppose that is an advantage,” admitted the other serenely. ”How long have you known Mr. Dougla.s.s?”
”Her husband must get precious tired of the sound of her voice.”
”He does. He goes away a good deal. The war in South Africa was a G.o.dsend to him. Just now he is out somewhere--I forget where. How long have you--”
”Any youngsters?”
”There are no children.”
Gertie glanced back at Lady Dougla.s.s in a more friendly way. Clarence had been dropped owing, apparently, to want of sympathy, and Trew was selected as one more likely to agree with arguments.
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