"Do not your divorcees remarry if they wish?"
"What becomes of the children?" he demanded sullenly.
"What becomes of them when your courts divorce their parents?"
"I see. It's all a parody on lawful regularity."
The girl's face flushed and she extended her hand toward her wine glass.
"I didn't intend to hurt you, Palla," he said.
She drew a quick breath, looked up, smiled: "You didn't mean to," she said. Then into her brown eyes came the delicious glimmer:
"May I whisper to you, Jim? Is it too rude?"
He inclined his head and felt the thrill of her breath:
"Shall we drink one glass together--to each other alone?"
"To a dear comradeship, and close!... And not too desperate!" she added, as her glance flashed into hidden laughter.
They drank, not daring to look toward each other. And Palla's careless gaze, slowly sweeping the circle, finally met Marya's--as she knew it must. Both smiled, touching each other at once with invisible antennæ--always searching, exploring under the glimmering aura what no male ever discovered or comprehended.
There was, in the living room above, a little more music--a song or two before the guests departed.
Marya, a little apart, turned to Shotwell:
"You find our Russian folk-song amusing?"
"If, by any chance, you should remember that I am at home on Thursdays, there is a song I think that might interest you." She let her eyes rest on him with a curious stillness in their depths:
"The song is called _Lada_," she said in a voice so low that he just heard her. The next moment she was taking leave of Palla; kissed her. Vanya enveloped her in her wrap.
Estridge called up a taxi; and presently went away with Ilse.
Very slowly Palla came back to the centre of the room, where Shotwell stood. The scent of flowers was in his nostrils, his throat; the girl herself seemed saturated with their perfume as he took her into his arms.
"So you didn't like my friends, Jim," she ventured.
"I was afraid they might have shocked you."
He said drily: "It isn't a case of being shocked. It's more like being bored."
"Their morals do.... Is Ilse that sort, too?"
"Not inclined to bother herself with the formalities of marriage?"
"It's a mischievous, ridiculous, immoral business!" he said hotly. "Why, to look at you--at Ilse--at Miss Lanois----"