She had a strong belief in hostesses, natural to her, perhaps not
unreasonable. In either of two events she had foreseen an ideal hostess
for the party in the woman she still thought of as May Gaston. There was
no need to detail the two events; suffice it to say that, whichever of
them now happened, it appeared that May Gaston would not be able to
figure as a great hostess; at least there would have to rise for her some
star not yet visible in the heavens.
Marchmont and May had neither met nor written to one another since their
talk under the tree at Ashwood. He had not doubted that she would
understand silence and like silence best; from him any word seemed
impossible. But on the day when his determination was made public he
received a summons from her and at once obeyed it. He found her alone,
though she told him that she expected Quisante back from the City in a
little while.
"He wants to see you," she said. "I don't know why, unless it's just as a
curiosity." She smiled for a moment. "I'm sorry you find you can't stand
it," she went on.
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