out by the talk that had drifted so far from her own contribution to art and had left her to sit unnoticed in the wings.
"Yes," said a stumpy woman Figente remembered he had invited for some reason he could not remember, "I'm afraid we really must go."
"Please do," he said.
Clem rose and stretched. He was depressed by Vermillion's mouthings. A fine thing it would be to have slaved for an exhibition and then not have anyone like it. It was bad enough not to know which way to turn these days. Before seeing all that Paris stuff one could paint what one really liked, maybe as good as George Luks some day. But now one had to be scared of not being modern. The idea that had come in Figente's studio wasn't bad though. Break up a representational painting with angles and shadows in flat off-colors. Modern and understandable at the same time and, as Vedder said was important, one could do a show a year.
"Come on, Semy, time to go."
Semy did not want to leave without an invitation to call from Mrs. Cornwallis who, he had discovered, knew even more important people than Mrs. Doyle. The latter's invitation he already had wangled, though he'd have to think up some way to get round Kevin. Beman sure was right in telling off that guy Vermillion, you didn't have to be a painter, composer, or writer to be an artist.
"There is a print of the Empress Theodosia of Byzantium that is so like you—I'd like to bring you a copy sometime," he said to Mrs. Cornwallis.
Resemblance to an Empress was flattering. "Do. I'm usually in late most afternoons. I'm at the Athenée," she said cordially to the young man who knew that tart, Lucy Claudel, from way back.
"My dear," she said to Lucy in leaving, "I'll telephone you for lunch next week so we can talk about your dance for the ball."
"I hope," added the Marqués to Lucy, "you will have some time for me also."
Vermillion stood abruptly and looked about. "Where's Simone?" he asked Figente.
"I have no idea. Damon, where's Simone?"
"I don't know—I'll find her."
"And Hal—see where he is."
"I have to find Simone—time she and I left," Vermillion said to Lucy.
"Oh!" she said in a small disappointed voice.
