nice to Hermione Woodruff.

From her end of the table, she saw them apparently safely launched in
conversation over the hors-d'oeuvre, took a look at them during the soup
to see that all was still well, then let herself be beguiled into a
conversation with John Williamson, whom she liked as well as Martin did
Violet. She never thought of the objects of her matrimonial design again
until her ear was caught by a huge seven-cornered word in her brother's
voice. He couldn't be saying it to Hermione; no, he was leaning forward,
shouting at Doctor Randolph, who apparently knew what he meant and was
getting visibly ready to reply in kind.

According to Violet Williamson's account, given confidentially in the
drawing-room afterward, it was really Hermione's fault. "She just
wouldn't let Rodney alone--would keep talking about crime and Lombroso
and psychiatric laboratories--I'll bet she'd got hold of a paper of his
somewhere and read it. Anyway, at last she said, 'I believe Doctor
Randolph would agree with me.' He was talking to me then, but maybe that
isn't why she did it. Well, and Rodney straightened up and said, 'Is
that Randolph, the alienist!' You see he hadn't caught his name when
they were introduced. And that's how it started. Hermione was game--I'll
admit that. She listened and kept looking interested, and every now and
then said something. Sometimes they'd take the trouble to smile and say
'Yes, indeed!'--politely, you know, but other times they wouldn't pay
any attention at all, just roll along over her and smash her flat--like
what's his name--Juggernaut."

"You don't need to tell me that," said Frederica. "All I didn't know was
how it started. Didn't I sit there and watch for a mortal hour, not able
to do a thing? I tried to signal to Martin, but of course he wasn't
opposite to me and ..."

"He did all he could, really," Violet answered her. "I told him to go to
the rescue, and he did, bravely. But what with Hermione being so miffy
about getting frozen out, and Martin himself being so interested in what
they were shouting at each other--because it was frightfully
interesting, you know, if you didn't have to pretend you understood
it--why, there wasn't much he could do."

In the light of this disaster, she was rather glad the men lingered in
the dining-room as long as they did--glad that Hermione had ordered her
car for ten and took the odd girl with her. She made no effort to resist
the departure of the others