But to Feather's immediate circle a multiplicity of engagements,
fevers of eagerness in the attainment of pleasures and ambitions,
anxieties, small and large terrors, and a whirl of days left no time
for the regarding of pathetic aspects. The tiny house up whose
staircase--tucked against a wall--one had seemed to have the effect of
crowding even when one went alone to make a call, suddenly ceased
to represent hilarious little parties which were as entertaining
as they were up to date and noisy. The most daring things London
gossiped about had been said and done and worn there. Novel social
ventures had been tried--dancing and songs which seemed almost
startling at first--but which were gradually being generally adopted.
There had always been a great deal of laughing and talking of
nonsense and the bandying of jokes and catch phrases. And Feather
fluttering about and saying delicious, silly things at which her
hearers shouted with glee. Such a place could not suddenly become
pathetic. It seemed almost indecent for Robert Gareth-Lawless to
have dragged Death nakedly into their midst--to have died in his
bed in one of the little bedrooms, to have been put in his coffin
and carried down the stairs scraping the wall, and sent away in a
hearse. Nobody could bear to think of it.
Feather could bear it less than anybody else. It seemed incredible
that such a trick could have been played her.
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