Manchurian Books

At their head marched a
woman with such a bright bonnet, and such a tinkle of ornaments on
her gown that at first sight she quite looked like a lamp. It was
she whom St. George approached.
"I beg your pardon, madame," he said, "is this the Readers' Guild?"
There was nothing in St. George's grave face and deferential
stooping of shoulders to betray how his heart was beating or what a
bound it gave at her amazing reply.
"Ah," she said, "how do you do?"--and her manner had that violent
absent-mindedness which almost always proves that its possessor has
trained a large family of children--"I am so glad that you can be
with us to-day. I am Mrs. Manners--forgive me," she besought with
perfectly self-possessed distractedness, "I'm afraid that I've
forgotten your name."
"My name is St. George," he answered as well as he could for virtual
speechlessness.
The other members of the Guild were issuing from the room, and Mrs.
Manners turned. She had a fashion of smiling enchantingly, as if to
compensate her total lack of attention.


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