Читать книгу The Carcellini Emerald, With Other Tales онлайн

22 страница из 51

Carmichael could not repress a movement of tremor. At that moment he saw going in ahead of them Oliver, who had been his dearest friend, his most loyal benefactor, whom he had betrayed. And for an hour and a half he was to sit so near him that their glances could not fail to meet. He wished now he had taken the advice of his sister, and stayed at home.

“Dear me!” exclaimed little Miss Ellison, coming to a halt behind their places. “It’s Mrs. Dick Anstey who’s next to you, after all. I suppose mamma changed her mind about Mrs. Farnsworth.”

“I suppose so,” said Carmichael, stooping mechanically to tuck in a corner of Mrs. Anstey’s apple-green velvet skirt, as that lady took her chair, having permitted a servant to advance it toward her and the table. “That gown of yours should be treasured, Mrs. Anstey,” he added. “It is the most charming you have worn this season, and that is saying much.”

Mrs. Anstey, who lived to dress, fluttered with excitement at this compliment. It was unlooked for from Carmichael, who, until now, had snubbed her unmercifully wherever they had met. He followed it up by devoting himself to her so exclusively that three courses of the dinner had passed before he gave heed to the heroine of the feast.