The light in the dining-room was provided by six heavily-shaded candles
on the table; the latter decorated with delicate lines of orchids. The
chairs were large and comfortable, covered with tapestry; the glass was
old Venetian, and the servants, moving like useful ghosts in the shadow
outside the circle of mellow light, were particularly efficient in the
matter of keeping the wine-glasses full. Madame de Vaurigard had put
Pedlow on her right, Cooley on her left, with Mellin directly opposite
her, next to Lady Mount-Rhyswicke. Mellin was pleased, because he
thought he would have the Countess's face toward him. Anything would
have pleased him just then.
"This is the kind of table _everybody_ ought to have," he observed to
the party in general, as he finished his first glass of champagne. "I'm
going to have it like this at my place in the States--if I ever decide
to go back. I'll have six separate candlesticks like this, not a
candelabrum, and that will be the only light in the room. And I'll never
have anything but orchids on my table--"
"For my part," Lady Mount-Rhyswicke interrupted in the loud, tired
monotone which seemed to be her only manner of speaking, "I like more
light.
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