her father's example by sending her own daughters to Paris to school.
Mary came a little early, as she wanted to enjoy a talk with her father before the others arrived. When the first guest was announced, Mrs. Sumner joined them in the drawing-room. Slightly past forty, she was still a handsome woman; she had always possessed distinction of manner. She bought all her clothes in Paris, a city she visited at least once a year, usually in the spring when she could accompany her daughters back to New York. This evening she wore a frock of écru crêpe which exactly matched the colour of her superbly formed shoulders so that, at a little distance, her back appeared to be entirely nude. A long chain of chrysoprase depended from her throat.
She was followed by Gareth Johns, the novelist. Mary noted immediately that the middle-aged man, with white hair, was nervous. Evidently it was his first appearance as a dinner-guest in a Negro home and he was attempting, not entirely successfully, to be easy in his manner.
What a charming place you have, Mrs. Sumner, he began, in rather a high key, from which the note of astonishment was not entirely lacking.
We find it comfortable, Mrs. Sumner replied, adding, I want you to meet Miss Love, and her father.
Delighted, I'm sure. Gareth bowed.
It's certainly a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Love
