The lift was going down; and wrapped to the ears in the high cloak, with
every one of her auburn hairs in its place, she waited motionless for
it to stop at her floor. The iron gates clanked open; she entered. There
were already three occupants, a man in a great white waistcoat, with
a large, smooth face like a baby's, and two old ladies in black, with
mittened hands.
Mrs. MacAnder smiled at them; she knew everybody; and all these three,
who had been admirably silent before, began to talk at once. This was
Mrs. MacAnder's successful secret. She provoked conversation.
Throughout a descent of five stories the conversation continued, the
lift boy standing with his back turned, his cynical face protruding
through the bars.
At the bottom they separated, the man in the white waistcoat
sentimentally to the billiard room, the old ladies to dine and say to
each other: "A dear little woman!" "Such a rattle!" and Mrs. MacAnder to
her cab.
When Mrs. MacAnder dined at Timothy's, the conversation (although
Timothy himself could never be induced to be present) took that wider,
man-of-the-world tone current among Forsytes at large, and this, no
doubt, was what put her at a premium there.
Mrs. Small and Aunt Hester found it an exhilarating change.
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