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Phelps smiled. The applause continued and he smiled again.At the Ritz Tower Hotel Mr. Phelps Phelps was now at the reception following his speech. He stood with Claire Belfield, but she hadn't yet introduced herself. She wore a cloche hat with a narrow brim and a large feather attached to the hat on the right side, a long graduated glass bead necklace and long suede gloves. Her blue silk dress had a square neckline.Mr. Phelps was leaning forward slightly, the bulk of his figure tilted toward Claire. Behind him was a wall covered with an ornate silk wallpaper, part of a gilt mirror that showed the crowd in the large room. The noise of the crowd, people chatting, laughing, the tinkling of refreshment glasses, rose and fell.Mr. Phelps now had his eyes on Claire's bosom. "Can I offer you a cigarette?" Why yes, thank you."He opened a silver cigarette case. Claire chose a cigarette, slipped one end of it between her lips and Mr. Phelps lit it with a silver cigarette lighter."Well I hope I. Throughout it all Ava has hardly spoken a word. She's quiet, and frail, but hasn't complained or fought back against any direction, no matter how senseless it may seem. She's only barely a woman, and appears to be classically a princess visage; blond hair, wavy and long. Pale, fair, and soft skin, though by now broken in by its first hardships, and blue eyes, as weary as her slowed movements. She's hardly moved the hood of her face, so anything specific has been obscured, let alone disrobing the cloak entirely. She seems sincerely concerned about her own safety, and no doubt is mourning her family. In long run, that caution is going to help.Another night has passed, and your sentry duty lulls longer than any night prior. There isn't anything out there; the the thin and open fields about your don't leave much to the imagination, and the silence of the night makes a racket of even the smallest critter.Ava is sleeping next to you. While she's been down, her hood has fallen off her head..
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