He smiles patronizin' at that. "No offense intended, I'm suah," says he. "I merely wished to make clear my own position in this ridiculous affair. Of course, if Mother insists, I presume I must---- Bah Jove! Here they are, though!"
And out through the door comes J. Bayard and the lawyer, escortin' a stunnin'-built lady with her face half hid by veils. I'd been introduced too, and was just handin' her a chair, when we got a good square look at each other. So it was simultaneous. She gives a little gasp and stiffens, and I expect I did some open-face work myself. I glances from her to J. Bayard and stares foolish.
"Of course, McCabe," says he sort of peevish. "You know I explained beforehand."
Then the lady steps to the front herself, her chin up and her lips pressed tight. "Professor McCabe and I have met before," says she, "under--well, under different circumstances. That is all. And now, Mr. Steele, you spoke of securing an invitation for my son and myself to an important social affair. At just whose house, please?"
"Why," says J. Bayard, "at Mr. Twombley-Crane's."
She don't wince. Near as I could tell she don't make a move, and a second later she's turned to me with a sketchy sort of a smile. "I think I may trust you to explain to Mr. Steele later on," says she, "how impossible it would be for me to accept such an invitation."
I nods, still gawpin' at her. You'd most thought that would have been hint enough for J. Bayard; but he's such a fathead at times, and he's so strong for carryin' through any proposition of his own, that it don't get to him.
"But, my dear lady," says he, "such an opportunity! Why, the Twombley-Cranes, you know, are----"
"Ah, ditch it, J. B.!" I cuts in, and shakes my head menacin'.
The lady smiles grateful and lifts one hand. "It's no use," says she. "I've given up. And you might as well know the whole story at once; Royce too. I didn't mean that he should ever know; but I see now that he is bound to hear it sooner or later. Professor McCabe, you tell them."
It's some attentive audience I faced too; J. Bayard starin' puzzled, the lawyer with his eyes squinted hard at her, and young Royce growin' pale around the gills. It was that look of his that hurried me on.