It was just as if there were a conspiracy to ignore the presence
of the stranger, though she had been, from the moment of her entrance,
the dominant figure at the table. You tried to pretend she wasn't there,
and yet you knew--you knew vividly that she was gazing insolently
straight through you.
The dinner lasted, it seemed, for hours, and you may imagine my relief
when at last Mrs. Vanderbridge rose and led the way back into the
drawing-room. At first I thought the stranger would follow us, but when
I glanced round from the hall she was still sitting there beside Mr.
Vanderbridge, who was smoking a cigar with his coffee.
"Usually he takes his coffee with me," said Mrs. Vanderbridge, "but
tonight he has things to think over."
"I thought he seemed absent-minded."
"You noticed it, then?" She turned to me with her straightforward
glance. "I always wonder how much strangers notice. He hasn't been well
of late, and he has these spells of depression. Nerves are dreadful
things, aren't they?"
I laughed. "So I've heard, but I've never been able to afford them."
"Well, they do cost a great deal, don't they?" She had a trick of ending
her sentences with a question. "I hope your room is comfortable, and
that you don't feel timid about being alone on that floor.
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