tabel thought, but if I'm not mistaken he's getting just a little bit fed up.
He looked in her direction. She lifted a shoulder, letting silver slide from it, and turned her lovely head. In her imagination she could see her hair gleam in the light from the tall candles.
"I needn't ask if you arranged those blossoms," her poet was saying with his mouth full. "Some ladies let their servants do it, I'm told, but I look at these, and I look at you, and I know."
Smedley was at the other end of the table, filling Curtis's champagne glass. "I never can understand people who let the servants do it," Christabel said. "That seems to me like letting the servants say your prayers for you."
Because, she thought, I did come in and give them that one touch that makes all the difference.
She turned her head slowly back, letting her eyes rest indifferently on Nick Portal. His were turned toward Ellen.
