WHITEWASH
"Really? How I should love to be present sometime."
"Perhaps," and he smiled kindly, "we may give some little trifle this afternoon—we are all under tribute here. In madame's salon one can not do less than give freely of one's gifts. These are gatherings of the inner circle, few are admitted who are not vouched for, even as your friend presented you."
"And yet," said Victoria, "I see Miss Trevor and Miss Berkley—are they of the circle?"
"Patrons of ours," Mr. Red loftily allowed. "Horace must invite Mæcenas. My sister dances at their houses next week."
"And the stout man in the corner?"
"Once again Maecenas; he is Mr. Gustell, the publisher. He has brought out a number of us in book form, both by picture and print. S—h, we must not speak while Herr Balder plays; nothing so annoys the sensitives."
Silence fell upon the assembly as a stout little man, with speaking black eyes, seated himself at the piano, swept the audience with a dreamy glance, and fixed his gaze suddenly on Victoria.
105
