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It was such an unusual state of affairs I lost composure and pretended to be deeply interested in the scene around me. A waiter was swerving in and out of the tables, holding aloft on the palm of one hand a great serving dish which glittered under the light; it was so heavy it spun him round and he swooped down and rose again like a juggler, at which I clapped my hands and shouted, ‘Well caught, sir.’ From the dais banked with palms came a whine of strings and the tinkle of a piano as the ship’s orchestra battled to be heard above the incessant sea-roar of conversation.
    ‘Morgan,’ said Wallis, and then fell silent, though she still looked at me.
    ‘Yes,’ I said, and waited. I did fancy, seeing she was hesitant, that she was about to make amends for having rebuked me so severely over that business of Kitty Webb’s jewels. She wouldn’t apologise, that wasn’t her way, but she possibly intended to soften her words. After all, vulgar was a pretty strong denouncement of something only meant as a joke.
    ‘That man,’ she said, at last. ‘Who is he?’
    ‘I’m afraid I didn’t ask,’ I said, deflated. ‘I merely laid him flat on the sidewalk, rang the bell of the nearest house and had the housekeeper send for a constable.’
    ‘I wasn’t—’ she began.
    ‘When he arrived, though only after some considerable time—’
    ‘Morgan—’ she interrupted.
    ‘I explained I’d never seen him before in my life and went home.’
    ‘I’m not talking about the dead man,’ she said. ‘I mean the one who—’ but before she could enlighten me, Molly Dodge pushed back her chair and said she wanted to dance.
    We walked in procession to the Palm Court. Young Melchett had crumbs caught in his yellow moustache. Wallis Ellery swayed at my side, swinging her white-gloved arms. When I opened the doors she rose on the toes of her white satin shoes.
    The band hadn’t yet arrived and Ginsberg and the other fellows went off to the adjoining smoke-room. They promised to return as soon as they heard the music. I might have followed them if Wallis hadn’t chosen to sit next to me. It turned me giddy. For half an hour, at least, she scarcely spoke to Molly or Ida. Though I can’t claim she hung on to my every word, she was remarkably civil and attentive. Molly kept rolling her eyes and smirking. We talked about Sissy and the baby for a time. She thought Sissy terribly brave to go through all that sort of thing, though supposed it was worth it. And she rather liked Whitney.
    ‘Sissy chose him for his eyelashes,’ I told her.
    ‘How sensible,’ she said. ‘They, at least, are sure to be genuine.’
    I announced I was rather looking forward to having children, a thought that had never before crossed my mind. ‘And I’ll make sure they’re properly looked after.’
    ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘They should always be looked after, shouldn’t they? . . . By someone or other.’
    Sissy, who liked her, said her cleverness stemmed from conflict. Her father kept a string of ‘girlies’ and her mother had twice attempted suicide. Her last botched effort, when she’d flung herself from the first floor of their Boston town house, had resulted in a damaged spine and confinement to a wheel chair. I wasn’t so sure cleverness arose from that sort of thing. In our circle such family upsets were commonplace, but then, so was stupidity.
    She leaned nearer and looked into my eyes. It was all I coulddo to stop my lips from trembling. She wanted to know what I’d been doing in London for the past two months and why we hadn’t run into one another. I explained I’d spent a deal of time with Melchett’s people in Dorset, and for the rest I’d been occupied with family business.
    ‘What sort of business?’ she asked, as though she really cared. ‘Surely you’re not interested in banking, Morgan?’
    It was very encouraging. In my head I mouthed, Darling, you are my best girl , though even as I was romancing, her eyes,