Carmelita discovered to her relief that Jack Hodge was seated next to her at the left. She turned a little around so as to avoid Rao-Singh without exceeding the limits of politeness and attempted to concentrate upon Jack. But Jack had eyes and ears only for the lively, plump, yellow-haired widow of the late Talbot Trevor across the table. He gave perfunctory answers to Carmelita and at length she was compelled to give him up. Determined not to resort to Rao-Singh, who seemed deeply engaged with the fair diner upon his right, Carmelita acknowledged the rather desperate efforts of one of the columnists, a tall, dark chap with humorous puckers around his mouth. Her dark Spanish beauty seemed out of place there. He was anxious to see what was behind it.
He spoke across the table through the cigarette smoke and din. "You are new among us, are you not, Mrs. Drake?"
Lucy drawled from the other side of him, "Carmelita is the prodigal daughter returned, Roy, a brand snatched from the burning heat of Greenwich Village."
Roy Daly kept by Carmelita's side as the dinner broke up and she strolled into the living room. They found two chairs near a window whose fluttering curtains promised a breeze.
