It was very trying to be the target of so many glances and to know that he was being studied like a bug beneath a microscope, yet Kirk managed to keep a degree of self-possession, making up his mind to display a modest reticence that could not help appearing admirable.  But he soon found that this did not suit.  Instead of resuming their conversation, the entire assemblage of Garavels waited calmly for their caller to begin, and he realized in a panic that he was expected to make conversation.  He cast about madly for a topic.

His host helped him to get started, and he did fairly well until one of the Misses Garavel began to translate his remarks to the old lady and the ferocious cousin from Guatemala.  As their replies were not rendered into English, he was left stranded.  He knew that his whole salvation lay in properly impressing his auditors, so he began again and floundered through a painful monologue.  It was not at all pleasant.  It was like being initiated into some secret order.  These strange people sitting so stiff and watchful formed an inquisitorial body.  The night suddenly turned off swelteringly hot; perspiration began to trickle down his brow, his collar became a tourniquet, and he cast appealing glances at the silent figure hidden demurely behind the rustly old lady in the black harness.  The look of mingled pity and understanding she gave him somewhat revived his fainting spirit, and he determined to stick it out until the family were ready to retire and allow him a word with her alone.  But, idle hope!  Gradually it dawned upon him that they had no such intention.  To relieve the strain, he became facetious and told funny stories; but this was an unlucky experiment, for his witticisms fell with a ghastly hollowness.  No one laughed save the grandmother and the Guatemalan cousin, who could not understand, and at this Kirk fled helter-skelter from the realms of humor.

By now his collar had given up the struggle and lain limply down to rest.  The whole experience was hideous, yet he understood quite well that these people were not making sport of him.  All this was only a part of their foreign customs.  They were gentlefolk, reared to a different code from his—­that was all—­and, since he had elected to come among them, he could only suffer and be strong.

In time he became sufficiently inured to the situation to take in the details of the room, which were truly markable.  To begin with, the parlor walls entirely lacked the sort of decoration to which he was used; the furniture, costly and rare in itself, was arranged stiffly in a square about the room, the precise geometrical centre being occupied by a great urn of impressive ugliness.  A richly carved mahogany “what-not” against one wall was laden with sea-shells and other curios.  At various points about the room were many statuettes, vases, and figures, of every conceivable size and shape—­some of bisque, others of common pottery, a few of exquisite marble—­all