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ound to taking a second bite out of。 Every time she raised it toward her mouth somebody said something to her； or she said something to somebody。 It didn't matter； it was more fun that way。
Bill brushed by her once； grinning。 〃How does it feel to be an old mother？〃
〃How does it feel to be an old uncle？〃 she rejoined pertly over her shoulder。
A year ago seemed a long time away； just a year ago tonight； with its horror and its darkness and its fright。 That hadn't happened to her； it couldn't have。 That had happened to a girl named…No； she didn't want to remember that name； she didn't even want to summon it back for a fleeting instant It had nothing to do with her。
〃Aunt Josie's sitting up there with him。 No； he'll be all right； he's a very good baby about going to sleep。〃
〃ing from a detached observer。〃
〃Well； I am detached at this minute； so I'm entitled to say so。 He's all the way upstairs and I'm down here。〃
She was in the brightly lighted living…room of her home； here； with her friends； her family's friends； all gathered about her； laughing and chatting。 A year ago was more than a long time away。 It had never happened。 No； it had never happened。 Not to her； anyway。
A great many of the introductions were blurred。 There were so many firsts； on an occasion like this。 She looked about； dutifully recapitulating the key…people； as befitted her role of assistant hostess。 Edna Harding and Marilyn Bryant； they were those two girls sitting one on each side of Bill； and vying with one another for his attention。 She suppressed a mischievous grin。 Look at him； sober…faced as a totem pole。 Why； it was enough to turn his head…if he hadn't happened to have a head that was unturnable by girls； as far as she'd been able to observe。 Guy Ennis was that dark…haired young man over there getting someone a punch…cup； he was easy to memorize because he'd e in alone。 Some old friend of Bill's； evidently。 Funny that the honeybees didn't buzz around him more thickly； instead of unresponsive Bill。 He looked far more the type。
Grace Henson； she was that stoutish； flaxen…haired girl over there； waiting for the punch…cup。 Or was she？ No； she was the less stout but still flaxen…haired one at the piano； softly playing for her own entertainment； no one near her。 One wore glasses and one didn't。 They must be sisters； there was too close a resemblance。 It was the first time either one of them had been to the house。
She moved over to the piano and stood beside her。 She might actually be enjoying doing that； for all Patrice knew； but she should at least have somebody taking an appreciative interest。
The girl at the keyboard smiled at her。 〃Now this。〃 She was an acplished player； keeping the music subdued； like an undertone to the conversations going on all over the room。
But suddenly all the near…by ones had stopped。 The music went on alone for a note or two； sounding that much clearer than it had before。
The second flaxen…haired girl quitted her panion for a moment； stepped up behind the player's back； touched her just once on the shoulder； as if in some kind of esoteric remonstrance or reminder。 That was all she did。 Then she went right back to where she'd been sitting。 The whole little pantomime had been so deft and quick it was hardly noticeable at all。
The player had broken off； uncertainly。 She apparently had understood the message of the tap； but not its meaning。 The slightly bewildered shrug she gave Patrice was evidence of that。
〃Oh； finish it；〃 Patrice protested unguardedly。 〃It was lovely。 What's it called？ I don't think I've ever heard it before。〃
〃It's the Barcarolle； from Tales of Hoffman；〃 the other girl answered unassumingly。
The answer itself was in anticlimax。 Standing there beside the player； she became conscious of the congealing silence immediately about her； and knew it wasn't due to that； but to something that must have been said just before。 It had already ended as she detected it； but awareness of it lingered on…in her。 Something had happened just then。
I've said something wrong。 I said something that was wrong just now。 But I don't know what it was； and I don't know what to do about it。
She touched her punch…cup to her lips； there was nothing else to do at the moment。
They only heard it near me。 The music left my voice stranded； and that only made it all the more conspicuous。 But who else in the room heard？ Who else noticed？ Maybe their faces will tell…
She turned slowly and glanced at them one by one； as if at random。 Mother Hazzard was deep in conversation at the far end of the room； looking up over her chair at someone。 She hadn't heard。 The flaxenhaired girl who had delivered the cautioning tap had her back to her； she might have heard and she might not But if she had； it had made no impression； she was not aware of her。 Guy Ennis was holding a lighter to a cigarette。 He had to click it twice to make it spark； and it had all his attention。 He didn't look up at her when her glance strayed lightly past his face。 The two girls with Bill； they hadn't heard； it was easy to see that They were oblivious of everything else but the bone of contention between them。
No one was looking at her。 No one's eyes met hers。
Only Bill。 His head was slightly down； and his forehead was querulously ridged； and he was gazing up from under his brows at her with a strange sort of inscrutability。 Everything they were saying to him seemed to be going over his head。 She couldn't tell if his thoughts were on her； or a thousand miles away。 But his eyes； at least； were。
She dropped her own。
And even after she did； she knew that his were still on her none the less。
18
As they climbed the stairs together； after； when everyone had gone； Mother Hazzard suddenly tightened an arm about her waist； protectively。
〃You were so brave about it；〃 she said。 〃You did just the right thing； to pretend not to know what it was she was playing。 Oh； but my dear； my heart went out to you； for a moment； when I saw you standing there。 That look on your face。 I wanted to run to you and put my arms around you。 But I took my cue from you； I pretended not to notice anything either。 She didn't mean anything by it； she's just a thoughtless little fool。〃
Patrice moved slowly up the stairs at her side； didn't answer。
〃But at the sound of the very first notes；〃 Mother Hazzard went on ruefully； 〃he seemed to be right back there in the room with all of us again。 So present； you could almost see him in front of your eyes。 The Barcarolle。 His favorite song。 He never sat down to a piano but what he played it。 Whenever and wherever you heard that being played； you knew Hugh was about someplace。〃
〃The Barcarolle；〃 Patrice murmured almost inaudibly； as if speaking to herself。 〃His favorite song。〃
19
〃…different now；〃 Mother Hazzard was musing fortably。 〃I was there once； as a girl； you know。 Oh； many years ago。 Tell me； has it changed much since those days？〃
Suddenly she was looking directly at Patrice； in innocent exclusive inquiry。
〃How can she answer that； Mother？〃 Father Hazzard cut in drily。 〃She wasn't there when you were； so how would she know what it was like then？〃
〃Oh； you know what I mean；〃 Mother Hazzard retorted indulgently。 〃Don't be so hanged precise。〃
〃I suppose it has；〃 Patrice answered feebly； turning the handle of her cup a little further toward her； as if about to lift it； and then not lifting it after all。
〃You and Hugh were married there； weren't you； dear？〃 was the next desultory remark。
Again Father Hazzard interrupted before she could answer； this time with catastrophic rebuttal。 〃They were married in London； I thought。 Don't you remember that letter he sent us at the time？ I can still recall it 'married here yesterday。' London letterhead。〃
〃Paris；〃 said Mother Hazzard firmly。 〃Wasn't it； dear？ I still have it upstairs； I can get it and show you。 It has a Paris postmark。〃 Then she tossed her head at him arbitrarily。 〃Anyway； this is one question Patrice can answer for herself。〃
There was suddenly a sickening chasm yawning at her feet； where a moment before all had been security of footing； and she couldn't turn back； yet she didn't know how to get across。
She could feel their three pairs of eyes on her； Bill's were raised now too； waiting in trustful expectancy that in a moment； with the wrong answer； would change to something else。
〃London；〃 she said softly； touching the handle of her cup as if deriving some sort of mystic clairvoyance from it 〃But then we left immediately for Paris； on our honeymoon。 I think what happened was； he began the letter in London； didn't have time to finish it； and then posted it from Paris。〃
〃You see；〃 said Mother Hazzard pertly； 〃I was partly right； anyhow。〃
〃Now isn't that just like a woman；〃 Father Hazzard marvelled to his son。
Bill's eyes had remained on Patrice。 There was something almost akin to grudging admiration in them； or did she imagine that？
〃Excuse me；〃 she said stifledly； thrusting her chair back。 〃I think I hear the baby crying。〃
20
And then； a few weeks later； another pitfall。 Or rather the same one； ever…present； ever lurking treacherously underfoot as she walked th