"Oh yes, so do I!" Vicky assented.
"Then why on earth bother to put on this sickening act?"
"It isn't a bother; I like it. I wish I were on the stage."
"You're certainly wasted here. Why has the Prince come here, do you suppose?"
"Well, I think because Mummy's so rich."
"Yes, but he knew she was married."
"But she could divorce Wally, couldn't she? I think it's all frightfully subtle of Alexis, only Ermyntrude's very respectable, so perhaps he'll murder Wally in the end."
"Oh, don't talk rot!" said Mary impatiently.
"Well, I do think he might, quite easily," said Vicky, applying eye-black with a lavish hand. "Oh, darling, don't I look grand and dangerous? I think Russians are sinister, particularly Alexis."
"I don't see anything sinister about Alexis. And you look awful."
"Ugly-awful, or fast-awful? I don't trust his smile. Like velvet, with something at the back of his eyes which makes me shiver a little."
"Don't waste that stuff on me: I'm the worst audience you'll ever have."
"I was rehearsing," said Vicky, quite unabashed. "Do you suppose secret agents have fun?"
"No. Why?"
"Oh, I don't know, except that I've made myself look like Sonia the Spy, and Robert Steel is dropping in after dinner."
"I don't see what that's got to do with it."
"Well, nothing really, except that I told him to, because it'll make a situation, and I think Robert and Alexis and Wally are the loveliest sort of triangle. Bottled passions, and things."
"Vicky!" Mary sounded shocked.
Vicky was busy reddening her lips, and said with difficulty: "Robert might murder Alexis. And anyway Mummy will know Solid Worth, and perhaps give up being thrilled by Alexis. Either way, it'll do."
"Look here, Vicky, that isn't funny!" said Mary severely. "You ought not to talk about your mother like that."
"Oh, darling, I do think you're sweet!"
This response annoyed Mary so much that she walked out of the room, and went down to the drawing-room. Here she found the Prince in the smartest of dinnerjackets, and his pique shirtfront embellished by pearl studs. He cast aside the newspaper he had been reading, and at once laid himself out to be agreeable. As though he was aware that the impression he had so far made on Mary was not good, he took pains to engage her liking, and succeeded fairly well. Yet the very fact of his adapting his conversation and manners to her taste had the effect of arousing a certain antagonism in her heart. She could not perceive any reason for his wanting her to like him.
Dinner passed without incident, but Wally did not keep the Prince long over his port, and led him presently into the drawing-room, his own face wearing an expression of sleepy resignation.
The question of what to do now began to trouble Ermyntrude, for although she would have enjoyed an evening spent tete-a-tete with the Prince, a party spent without the diversions of cards or dancing seemed to her not only dull, but a grave reflection upon the hostess.
Vicky, holding a cigarette-holder quite a foot long between her fingers, glided across the floor to turn on the radio. Ermyntrude was only saved from begging her to find something a bit more lively by the Prince's recognising the music of Rimsky-Korsakoff, and hailing it with a kind of wistful delight.
At this moment, Vicky's invited guest was announced, a strong, square-looking man with crisp hair slightly grizzled at the temples, and rather hard grey eyes that looked directly out from under craggy brows.
Ermyntrude got up, looking surprised, but not displeased, and exclaimed: "Well, I never! Who'd have thought of seeing you, Bob? Well, I do call this nice!"
Robert Steel took her hand in a firm clasp, reddening, and explaining somewhat self-consciously that Vicky had invited him. His gaze took in that damsel, as he spoke, and he blinked.
Ermyntrude had now to present him to the Prince. They made a sufficiently odd contrast, the one so thin, and handsome, and smiling, the other stocky, and rugged, and a little grim. Mary, who knew, and was sorry for, Steel's silent adoration of Ermyntrude, was not surprised to see him look more uncompromising than usual, for Ermyntrude was hanging on the Prince's lips. To make matters worse, Wally, although he had not lingered over the port, had fortified himself with a good many drinks before dinner, and was now looking a little blear-eyed. Steel's lips had tightened when his glance had first fallen on him, and beyond giving him a curt good-evening he had not again addressed him.
If Vicky's aim had been to provoke an atmosphere of constraint, she had succeeded admirably, Mary reflected. Nor, having introduced Steel into the party, did she show the least disposition to try to ease the tension. She remained standing backed against the amber-silk curtains, beside the radio, which she had turned down until the music became a faint undercurrent, a murmur behind the voices. It was left to the Prince to set the party at its ease, which outwardly he did, to Ermyntrude's satisfaction, and Steel's silent annoyance.
"Well, Bob, how are the crops and things?" inquired Ermyntrude kindly. "Mr. Steel," she added, turning to the Prince, "farms his own land, you know."
"I'm a farmer," stated Steel, somewhat pugnaciously disclaiming the implied suggestion that he toiled for his pleasure.
"Ah, perfectly!" smiled the Prince. "Alas, I find myself wholly ignorant of the art!"
"Precious little art about it," said Steel. "Hard work's more like it."
From her stance beyond the group, Vicky spoke thoughtfully. "I think there's something rather frightening about farming."
"Frightening?" repeated Steel.
"Primordial," murmured Vicky. "The struggle against Nature, savagery of the soil."
"What on earth are you talking about?" Steel demanded. "I never heard such rot!"
"But no, one sees exactly what she means!" the Prince exclaimed.
"I'm afraid I don't," replied Steel. "Struggle against Nature! I assure you, I don't, young lady!"
"Oh yes! Rain. And weeds," sighed Vicky.
"That's right," said Wally, entering unexpectedly into the conversation. "Getting earth under your nails, too. Oh, it's one long struggle!"
"It's a good life," said Steel.
"It may be your idea of a good life. All I know is that it isn't mine. Fancy getting up in the middle of the night to help a sheep have a lamb! Well, I ask you!"
"That'll do!" said Ermyntrude. "There's no need to get coarse."
It was generally felt that the possibilities of farming as a topic for conversation had been exhausted. An uneasy silence fell. The Prince began to recall to Ermyntrude memories of Antibes. As Steel had not been there, he was unable to join in. He said that his own country was good enough for him, to which the Prince replied with suave courtesy that it might well be good enough for anyone.
A diversion was created by the sound of footsteps on the flagged terrace outside. The evening was so warm that the long windows had been left open behind the curtains. These parted suddenly, and a face looked in. "Hallo! Anyone at home?" inquired Harold White with ill-timed playfulness.
Only Wally greeted this invasion with any semblance of delight. He got up and invited his friend to come in, and upon discovering that White was accompanied by his son and daughter, said the more the merrier.
Neither White nor his son had changed for dinner, a circumstance which still further prejudiced Ermyntrude against them. Janet White, a somewhat insignificant young woman, whose skirts had a way of dipping in the wrong places, was wearing a garment which she designated as semi-evening dress. It was she who first addressed Ermyntrude, saying with an anxious smile: "I do hope you don't mind us dropping in like this, Mrs. Carter? Father wanted to see Mr. Carter, you see, so I thought probably you wouldn't mind if Alan and I came too. But if you do mind - I mean, if you'd rather we didn't-'