say.... But people won't, you know--they won't--and there it is.' He
seemed resigned. 'Good chap, Mitchell, isn't he? Musical chairs, I
believe--that's what we're to play this evening; or bridge, whichever
we like. I shall go in for bridge. I'm not musical.'

'And which shall you do?' asked Aylmer of Edith. He had evidently been
listening.

'Neither.'

'We'll talk then, shall we? I can't play bridge either.... Mrs
Ottley--which is your husband? I didn't notice when you came in.'

'Over there, opposite; the left-hand corner.'

'Good-looking chap with the light moustache--next to Myra Mooney?'

'That's it,' she said. 'He seems to be enjoying himself. I'm glad he's
got Miss Mooney. He's lucky.'

'He is indeed,' said Aylmer.

'She's a wonderful-looking woman--like an old photograph, or someone in
a book,' said Edith.

'Do you care for books?'

'Oh, yes, rather. I've just been discovering Bourget. Fancy, I didn't
know about him! I've just read _Mensonges_ for the first time.'