Yet he had hesitated to add one more item to the score
of simple perversity, of not wanting when you can have and _vice versa_;
what she said about the atmosphere she lived in showed him that his
hesitation had been right.
"And I know you didn't want to come," she went on. "You've only come out
of politeness, no, I mean out of kindness."
"There was an old invitation. An old promise too? Wasn't there?"
"One never withdrawn, the other terribly broken," she laughed. "You've
heard of our difference with poor Dick Benyon?"
"Of your husband's?" May smiled slightly. "Yes, I have. Quisante's quite
right now, you know; the only pity is that he didn't see it sooner."
"Dick's not so charitable as you. He suspects our sincerity."
It was on the tip of his tongue to say again "Your husband's?" but
looking at her he found her eyes full of fun, and began to laugh
himself.
"I find it absolutely the only way," May explained. "I can't draw
distinctions. Mrs. Baxter, now, says 'Our Cathedral' but 'My
drawing-room.' Amy Benyon says 'Our relations,' when she means hers and
'Dick's relations' when she means his.
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