he didn't see me and that it wouldn't have made the
slightest difference to her if she had seen me. In spite of her grace
and her girlishness I did not like her, and I felt that this aversion
was not on my side alone. I do not know how I received the impression
that she hated Mrs. Vanderbridge--never once had she glanced in her
direction--yet I was aware from the moment of her entrance, that she was
bristling with animosity, though animosity is too strong a word for the
resentful spite, like the jealous rage of a spoiled child, which gleamed
now and then in her eyes. I couldn't think of her as wicked any more
than I could think of a bad child as wicked. She was merely wilful and
undisciplined and--I hardly know how to convey what I mean--elfish.

After her entrance the dinner dragged on heavily. Mrs. Vanderbridge
still kept up her nervous chatter, but nobody listened, for I was too
embarrassed to pay any attention to what she said, and Mr. Vanderbridge
had never recovered from his abstraction. He was like a man in a dream,
not observing a thing that happened before him, while the strange woman
sat there in the candlelight with her curious look of vagueness and
unreality. To my astonishment not even the servants appeared to notice
her, and though she had unfolded her napkin when she sat down, she
wasn't served with either the roast or the salad. Once or twice,
particularly when a course was served, I glanced at Mrs. Vanderbridge to
see if she would rectify the mistake, but she kept her gaze fixed on her
plate. It was just as if there were a conspiracy to ignore the presence
of the stranger, though she had been, from the moment of her entrance,
the dominant figure at the table. You tried to pretend she wasn't there,
and yet you knew--you knew vividly that she was gazing insolently
straight through you.

The dinner lasted, it seemed, for hours, and you may imagine my relief
when at last Mrs. Vanderbridge rose and led the way back into the
drawing-room. At first I thought the stranger would follow us, but when
I glanced round from the hall she was still sitting there beside Mr.
Vanderbridge, who was smoking a cigar with his coffee.

"Usually he takes his coffee with me," said Mrs. Vanderbridge, "but
tonight he has things to think over."

"I thought he seemed absent-minded."

"You noticed it, then?" She turned to me with her straightforward
glance. "I always wonder how much strangers notice. He hasn't been well
of late,