ABSTRACT
Mrs. Siddall emerged briskly from her bedroom, snapping on a pair of inch-wide diamond manacles, and followed by a yard of plum-colored velvet and her German maid, like a tugboat with a tow. A diamond collar indicated her neck; a tiara perched upon her sausage-roll coiffure. The state parure was in honor of Arthur’s birthday. Her increasing infirmity of vision restricted her to a small dinner, only thirty people; about a hundred would come in after for dancing, not enough to make it a ball. “Where is the table plan, Janet?” Her secretary, Janet Kirkland, advanced with flatfooted alertness. Gina remained discreetly in the background. A tall sheaf of daisies, porcelain white, made a ruinous contrast to Miss Kirkland’s swarthy cheek. She was younger than Gina, but with that complexion and two chins, what chance had she? Gina could afford to pity her. After six weeks, she no longer feared Miss Kirkland’s veiled hostility. “Have the florist’s men finished? My gloves, Trudi—thank you.” Mrs. Siddall liked giving numerous orders at once; a tide of activity could be felt all through the house, setting toward her. This was what she enjoyed about a party; so did the servants. It gave them a sense of importance. They did not resent her brusquerie; it was personal like a box on the ear. Mrs. Siddall assumed that they were devoted to her; that was what she paid them for. And in fact her service was not difficult, since the 12commands she gave were practical and definite. “What did you say, Janet?”
