Page:O Genteel Lady! (1926).pdf/104

 mance, of which Mr. Jones had nothing to say, was exaggerated. They were a lot of dirty people, black as Africans, and suffering from skin diseases, who wrote horrid poems, ate flour paste, rancid butter, and smelled of decay. And if this was all of Mr. Jones's charm, it was little enough. She whispered to Sears Ripley, 'He must have spoken for more than an hour and a half.' He looked slightly hurt, as one would if a member of one's own family had outtalked his welcome, and surreptitiously glanced at his Gorham watch.

'I think he feels so sure of his audience that he is talking a little overtime.'

'The people who live in Cambridge will miss the last horse-car.'

'Better that than Arabia.'

The voice went on. She felt stifled and was suddenly desperately anxious to leave the hall. If she did he might notice it and guess that she was bored. It might even hurt him. But, of course, he was so conceited nothing could do that. Professor Ripley moved slightly and his thick, navy-blue shoulder pressed against her silken one. He whispered to her gravely that the reason Jones was smooth-shaven except for an inch or so before either ear was the distaste the Arabs felt for a yellow beard.

No one except Mamma had ever hurt Lanice so much. She could not tell whether she liked him or hated him, but she knew he had the power to move her deeply, a power Augustus never had had, and temperate, friendly men like this nice Mr. Ripley