After dinner, Beatrice led her guests through the conservatory to the new music-room which Henry had just built on. Lucretia sat as near one of the doors as she could; possibly she might slip away unnoticed as soon as the men rejoined the ladies and enlarged the group a little. She sat apart from the others, alone on her little gilt chair, and waited her opportunity. How pretty the women were, she thought, as she stirred her coffee; what charm that tall, artistic-looking Larrabee girl, whom Bee had selected for Mr. Hornby especially, possessed. It must be a joy, thought Lucretia, to be able to lean so conspicuously against a piano like that, confident of the faultless lines of figure, coiffure, gown, and falling scarf.
Even as she thought this she saw the men coming in at the farther door, and she leaned to make sure that the scarf she carried concealed the street boots which she was wearing. Somebody began to play a fox-trot, and Lucretia saw Henry approach Miss Larrabee and ask her to dance. Gradually the other men followed his example, and Lucretia flushed when she saw Mr. Hornby look about the room and then, catching sight of her sitting there alone in her queer little outgrown dress, approach her, smiling.
