“Oh, but I did. I know it’s begging the question. But I say things like that on principle. Anything to break up addlepated masculine complacency. Not that it matters a toss to women, but because it’s all over everything in the world like a fungus, hiding the revelations waiting on every bush.”
“What was his response?”
“He looked very sick for a moment, and then laughed his laugh and began repeating himself. Went back to his saws about wasting youth.”
“Indeed, indeed, many are doomed to that. There at least he is right. Though most certainly not in regard to yourself. Apropos, I am dining here, with the Wheelers. The child is in great trouble. The Polish cellist, it seems, is not after all to be in London this season. She is in despair.
“Of course, after coming across the world to see him.”
“In despair. They must now, if they can raise sufficient funds, go to Poland. It seems that there is a lady, high up in the social scale and a patroness of musicians in general, who might be willing to help, provided that the cellist is willing to see the child and to make an exception to his rule of not taking pupils. It is therefore imperative to communicate with him by letter. I have been wondering whether your Russian friend …”
“Michael. Of course. I’ll ask him tonight. What is he to say?”
Miss Holland was flurried, transfigured; but still polite. Managing to phrase her decorous thanks before she hurried, almost running, away down the room. She returned in an instant, radiant.
“The Wheelers are delighted.”
But she was blushing. Evidently the Wheelers were in the next room. Could easily be brought in to state their needs. She wanted to keep them to herself. Be all in all to their stranded helplessness. And when a moment later a maid announced Dr. Densley, she made at once for the door, where she was held up for a moment by his entry, and so escaped back to the tremendous consultation.
Dr. Densley, hands outstretched, had made his smiling rush down the room and taken her lightly by the shoulders when the door opened to admit Michael. Summoning Densley from the hearthrug to the bright central light, she introduced them. They stood in a strange little silence. Densley, robbed of his usual soft-voiced flow of words and laughter by the spectacle of Michael, of whom he had heard so much, was taking a moment for contemplation, sure no doubt that she, like all the women of his world, would immediately emit suitable remarks. She ignored the obligation, flouted a suddenly realised desire to please him by filling up the measure of his large admiration, for the sake of watching these two old friends for the first time confronted.
It made them strangers to herself, people seen for the first time. Divested of their relationship to her they were at once diminished and enlarged. Large and separate, each set in the stream of his own life. And small; small figures in a moving crowd.
It was Michael who broke the silence, announcing with stern shyness and courteously bent head that the profession of medicine was arduous and at the same time most fascinating. Miriam saw the other man, as he stood listening with a dawning smile to the slow stately English, read Michael’s gentle spirit and hand him on the spot a protective affection. They stood talking. Michael bowing to punctuate his phrases but with a pleased smile shining behind his pale features, ready to emerge when the gravity he thought fitting to the occasion should have had its due. Densley, below a brow grave and thoughtful as Michael’s but without its sadness, smiled his smile that was laughter, the laughter of his everlasting enchantment.
She left them to spy from the landing for any sign of the arrival of the Taylors. The silent empty hall brought her a vision of Dora, hurrying home to dress, meeting a friend on an island in the midst of traffic, one of those encounters that occur whenever one is in a hurry, and to which Dora would give herself as if space and time had no existence.
The gong rang out and residents became audible descending from the upper rooms.
She went back to summon the men and warn Densley that he had committed himself to a meal prepared in honour of the Taylors, without meat. Also that he would hear from Mrs. Taylor all about the medical profession. His to-and-fro gust of laughter left him open-mouthed like a mask of Comedy, silently gazing at her his assurance of his readiness for all her friends might do.
Through the open door she heard the continuous rustling descent of residents. All the tables would be full. So much the better, in case her oddly asserted party should produce long silences. She felt no desire for conversation and wondered as she led the way downstairs whether hostesses in general suffered the indifference that now held her in its grip. And if they did, why the business of entertainment was not abolished. She remembered how porous to the onlooking eye were people gathered talking at a feast. To be merely a silent guest was troublesome enough, but it was nothing to the burden of being obliged to produce, before the assembled eyes of the twenty residents even the semblance of a dinner-party.
The dining-room was full of sound as she went in followed by the two men, held a little in the rear by the backward sweep of her long gown; a fabric of sound unbroken at any point in the rows of tables set against the walls, and all, even the one she had selected, fully occupied. All heads were averted, intent towards centres.
Gentlewomen. Yes; but those were just the people who saw without looking.
Here was the secretary at her elbow, smilingly indicating. … Miss Holland was right, there in the central pool of light, well away from the serried ranks of small square tables, was the club’s settlement
