And yet it would have
been remarkable, seeing that she was the guest of Lady Wetherby,
if she had not been there. When you have travelled three thousand
miles to enjoy the hospitality of a friend who does near-Greek
dances at a popular restaurant, the least you can do is to go to
the restaurant and watch her step. Claire had arrived with Polly
Wetherby and Mr Dudley Pickering at about the time when Nutty, his
gloom melting rapidly, was instructing the waiter to open the
second bottle.
Of Claire's movements between the time when she secured her ticket
at the steamship offices at Southampton and the moment when she
entered Reigelheimer's Restaurant it is not necessary to give a
detailed record. She had had the usual experiences of the ocean
voyager. She had fed, read, and gone to bed. The only notable
event in her trip had been her intimacy with Mr Dudley Pickering.
Dudley Pickering was a middle-aged Middle Westerner, who by thrift
and industry had amassed a considerable fortune out of automobiles.
Everybody spoke well of Dudley Pickering. The papers spoke well of
him, Bradstreet spoke well of him, and he spoke well of himself. On
board the liner he had poured the saga of his life into Claire's
attentive ears, and there was a gentle sweetness in her manner which
encouraged Mr Pickering mightily, for he had fallen in love with
Claire on sight.
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