Partly for that reason I strangled the ugly
thing that was writhing in my bosom, and put Alma (who had flown to me
with affectionate rapture) next to my husband, and the colonel
commanding on the Citadel in the seat beside me.
Throughout the dinner, which was very long, I was very nervous, and
though I did my best to keep up conversation with the colonel, I knew
quite well that I was listening to what was being said at the other side
of my big round table, and as often as any mention was made of "Margaret
Mary" I heard it.
More than once Alma lifted her glass with a gracious nod and smile,
crying, "Mary dearest!" and then in another moment gave my husband one
of her knowing glances which seemed to me to say, "Look at that foolish
little wife of yours!"
By the time we returned to the hall for coffee we were rather a noisy
party, and even the eyes of the ladies betrayed the fact that they had
dined. The talk, which had grown louder, was also a little more free,
and God forgive me, I joined in it, being feverishly anxious to outdo
Alma, and be looked upon as a woman of the world.
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