Twilight Sleep
"And for everything else—when she chooses!"
The door opened and Lita sauntered back and dropped into her seat. She shook her head disdainfully at the proffered pilaff. There was a pause.
"Well—what's the news?" Jim asked.
His wife arched her exquisite brows. "News? I expect you to provide that. I'm only just awake."
"I mean—" But he broke off, and signed to the butler to remove his plate. There was another pause; then Lita's little head turned on its long interrogative neck toward Nona. "It seems we're banqueting tonight at the Palazzo Manford. Did you know?"
"Did I know? Why, Lita! I've heard of nothing else for weeks. It's the annual feast for the Marchesa."
"I was never told," said Lita calmly. "I'm afraid I'm engaged."
Jim lifted his head with a jerk. "You were told a fortnight ago."
"Oh, a fortnight! That's too long to remember anything. It's like Nona's telling me that I ought to admire my drawing-room because I admired it two years ago."
Her husband reddened to the roots of his tawny hair. "Don't you admire it?" he asked, with a sort of juvenile dismay.
"There; Lita'll be happy now—she's produced her effect!" Nona laughed a little nervously.
