ner would not be
served until a few minutes after eight, that would give her time to
introduce Bowen to all the guests. She proceeded to conduct him round
to everyone in turn. In her flurry she quite forgot the careful
schooling to which she had subjected herself for a week past, and she
introduced Miss Wangle to Bowen.

"Lord Peter, allow me to introduce Miss Wangle. Miss Wangle, Lord
Peter Bowen," and this was the form adopted with the rest of the
company.

Bowen's sixth bow had just been interrupted by Mr. Cordal grasping him
warmly by the hand, when Patricia entered. For a moment she looked
about her regarding the strange toilettes, then she saw Bowen. She
felt herself crimsoning as he slipped away from Mr. Cordal's grasp and
came across to her. All the guests hung back as if this were the
meeting between Wellington and Bluecher.

"I've done six, there are about twenty more to do. If you save me,
Patricia, I'll forgive you anything after we're married."

Patricia shook hands sedately.

Mrs. Craske-Morton bustled up to re-claim Bowen. "A little surprise,
Miss Brent; I hope you will forgive me."

Patricia smiled at her in anything but a forgiving spirit.

"And now, Lord Peter, I want to introduce you to----"

"Deenair is served, madame." Gustave was certainly doing the thing in
style.

At a sign from Mrs. Craske-Morton, Miss Wangle secured Mr. Samuel
Ragbone and they started for the dining-room. The remainder of the
guests paired off in accordance with Mrs. Craske-Morton's instructions,
written and verbal, she left nothing to chance, and the procession was
brought up by Mrs. Craske-Morton herself and Bowen. Patricia fell to
the lot of Mr. Sefton.

As soon as the guests were seated a death-like stillness reigned.
Bowen was looking round with interest as he unfolded his napkin into
which had been deftly inserted a roll. Miss Sikkum, Mrs.
Mosscrop-Smythe and Mr. Bolton each lost their rolls, which were
retrieved from underneath the table by Gustave and Alice.

Mr. Sefton, also unconscious of the secreted roll, opened his napkin
with a debonair jerk to show that he was quite at his ease. The bread
rose in the air. He made an unsuccessful clutch, touched but could not
hold it, and watched with horror the errant roll hit Miss Wangle
playfully on the side of the nose, just as she was beginning to tell
Bowen about "the dear bishop."

Patricia bit her lip, Bowen bent solicitously over the angry Mi