ure would
have been infinitely less. Flash would have answered to flash; and then
the quiet current would have run on as if the perfect contact had never
been broken. Instead of that, her quieter, better-controlled nature
received his flashes and made no outward sign of the shock. In the end,
she remained painfully sensitive to his petulance, while his real love
for her left her unbelieving, cold and apathetic. She had proof of the
one; the other was mainly negative, in so far as practical results were
concerned.

"Who are to be there?" she asked, as soon as she could trust her voice
to be properly inexpressive.

"Austin, and Tom Forbes, and Lloyd Avalons, and two or three men you
don't know, and Thayer."

"Mr. Thayer?" Her accent was incredulous.

"Certainly. Why not?"

"I didn't know that he ever had anything to do with Mr. Dudley, and I
really can't imagine his caring to make a table companion of Lloyd
Avalons."

Lorimer's answering laugh was slightly bitter.

"What a social Philistine you are, Beatrix! Thayer is not so narrow."

"Does that mean I am narrow?" she asked resentfully.

"Yes, for a woman who frowned disapproval upon Sally Van Osdel's late
utterances."

"Sally was talking of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons. Mrs. Lloyd Avalons is not bad,
only foolish: Mr. Lloyd Avalons is both." She drew a long breath, as she
paused with her teeth shut upon her lower lip. Suddenly her chin began
to quiver, and two heavy tears slid down her cheeks. Then she rallied
swiftly, for she knew that all men hate domestic tears. "Sidney," she
said slowly and with an evident effort towards steadiness; "let's not
discuss this any more. I will go to mother's, and you may come for me
there, after your dinner is over. I wish you could go with me; but never
mind. Only, Sidney,--next time, please tell me a little sooner when you
make a dinner engagement, and then I shall know just how to fit my plans
into yours. And--?" She raised her eyes to meet his squarely.

He understood.

"Yes, dear girl, I will be careful," he said, as he drew her to his
side.

For a moment, she stood there, passive. Then she went away out of the
room.

Thayer was the last guest to arrive, that night, and when he entered the
room, he found that both host and _chef_ were anxiously awaiting his
coming. He had spent the past two hours with Arlt, listening to scraps
of the completed overture, suggesting, praising, criticising it with an
acumen which surprised ev