of her for being there?
Well, he had brought it on himself and he deserved his punishment. At
first Patricia had been amused: but as the meal dragged wearily on,
amusement developed into torture. Would it never end? She glanced
from Miss Wangle, all graciousness and smiles, to Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe,
in her faded blue evening-frock, on to Miss Sikkum bare and abandoned.
She heard Mr. Sefton's chatter, Mr. Bolton's laugh, Mr. Cordal's jaws
and lips. She shuddered. Why did not she accept the opening of escape
that now presented itself and marry Bowen? He could rescue her from
all this and what it meant.

"And shall we all be asked to the wedding, Lord Bowen?"

It was again Miss Sikkum's thin voice that broke through the curtain of
Patricia's thoughts.

"I hope all Miss Brent's friends will be there," replied Bowen
diplomatically.

"And now we shall all have to fetch and carry for Miss Brent," laughed
Mr. Bolton. "Am I your friend, Miss Brent?" he enquired.

"She always laughs at your jokes when nobody else can," snapped Miss
Pilkington.

Everybody turned to the speaker, who during the whole meal had silently
nursed her resentment at having been placed at the bottom of the table.
Mr. Bolton looked crestfallen. Bowen looked across at Patricia and saw
her smile sympathetically at Mr. Bolton.

"I think from what I have heard, Mr. Bolton," he said, "that you may
regard yourself as one of the elect."

Patricia flashed Bowen a grateful look. Mr. Bolton beamed and, turning
to Miss Pilkington, said with his usual introductory laugh:

"Then I shall return good for evil, Miss Pilkington, and persuade Lady
Peter to buy her stamps at your place."

Miss Pilkington flushed at this reference to her calling, a
particularly threadbare joke of Mr. Bolton's.

"When is it to be, Lord Peter?" enquired Mrs. Craske-Morton.

Miss Sikkum looked down modestly at her plate, not quite certain
whether or no this were a delicate question.

"That rests with Miss Brent," replied Bowen, smiling. "If you, her
friends, can persuade her to make it soon, I shall be very grateful."

Miss Sikkum simpered and murmured under her breath, "How romantic."

"Now, Miss Brent," said Mr. Bolton, "it's up to you to name the happy
day."

Patricia smiled, conscious that all eyes were upon her; but
particularly conscious of Bowen's gaze.

"I believe in long engagements," she said, stealing a glance at Bowen
and thrilling at the look of disappoi