Mrs. Mounteagle wanted to let me in--I believe out of simple
curiosity. I am to throw stones at her window. Quite romantic, isn't
it?"

"May I have a shot?" he asks. "Which is the pane of beauty's shrine?"

"There, on the left of my room," pointing upwards.

A handful of gravel flies through the air. Rattle, rattle on the glass.

Then Giddy appears in a white _robe de chambre_, her dark hair falling
in waves about her shoulders.

"All right, I am coming down."

A moment later she stands before them, laughing and shaking hands with
Carol Quinton, two small, bare feet peeping from under her airy garb,
her hair still unfettered.

"It is a delightful surprise to see _you_, Carol," she cries. "I have
sent all the servants to bed, Eleanor, but told them to leave out some
aspic and champagne, as I know the Hilliers starve their guests. What
do you say to an impromptu supper party? It would be so delightfully
unconventional."

She has dragged Carol into the hall and closed the door.

"Yes, do come in," echoes Eleanor feebly, pleased and yet awed by
Giddy's suggestion. She is looking somewhat blankly at those delicate
pink toes, and the dark mane falling over the white gown.

"Shall I get you some shoes?" she whispers.

"No, dear; Nature is better than leather, and more _neglige_."

She speaks in a tone that silences Eleanor, who feels she has been
dense and awkward.

"Come along," says Giddy, leading the way, and lighting the silver
candelabra in the dining-room. "Do make Eleanor take off that heavy
fur cloak, Carol. Oh! isn't this nice?" as he fills her glass with
champagne. "Was there ever a jollier little trio?" leaning back in her
chair and surveying the other two complacently. "Pass me a brown
sandwich; I am hungry if you are not, and the stuff inside them gives
you an appetite. What do you call it?--something beginning with an
'L.'"

The nectar of the gods puts a bright sparkle into Eleanor's eyes, their
lustrous beauty gleams on Giddy and Carol Quinton in luxurious
contentment. She permits her guests to smoke, and tries a whiff from
Mrs. Mounteagle's cigarette, finally lighting one on her own behalf.

She dislikes smoking in reality, but considers it smart to imitate the
widow.

"Have you really missed hearing Kitty Bell at the 'Frivolity'?" asks
Mrs. Mounteagle, giving Carol a light from her cigarette. "My dear
boy, she is perfectly charming, the most _piquante_ little singer of
the d