have it than the grandest opera cloak."

"I shan't need an opera cloak, either."

Peter was still smiling, though less confident of the old friendly
understanding which had given them a language of their own with words
which would have been nonsense for others.

"We'll see. Anyhow, I shall ask you to go to the very first
worth-while opera that comes along. Consider it a formal invitation."

"Very well, I will, and answer it formally. 'Miss Child thanks Mr.
Rolls for his kind invitation, and regrets that a previous engagement
makes it impossible for her to accept.'"

"By Jove, that does sound formal enough! How do you know you'll have a
previous engagement?"

"I'm perfectly certain I shall."

This was the real thing! There was no joke in the bottom of the
medicine glass.

Peter's face grew red, like a scolded schoolboy's. Winifred (who was
looking at Miss Carroll's trunk, but saw only Mr. Rolls) thought that
he was going to speak out angrily, and perhaps give her a glimpse of
his black heart. She hoped he would, for it would have been a relief;
but he did not.

"Have I done anything to offend you?" he asked with a straight look;
and though he spoke in a low tone, it was not a secret tone at all.

"No, certainly not," she answered, opening her eyes at him. "Why do
you ask?"

"Because--you weren't like this on the ship."

"I've left my ship manners hanging up behind the door with my
dryadhood. I shan't use them in New York, either!"

"Well--I'm sorry!"

"I don't know why you should be." If she had not stared hard at Miss
Carroll's trunk, and tried anxiously to make out the name on a very
small label, she would have done what she had boasted of never doing,
whatever the world did to her: she would have cried. As it was, she
wore the expression of a budding basilisk.

"_Don't_ you know? Well, then, you didn't realize what it meant to me
to have you for a friend."

"I really didn't think much about it, Mr. Rolls!"

"Evidently not. But I did. Look here, Miss Child. Did my sister put
you against me--or our friendship--in any way?"

"What an extraordinary idea!" sneered Winifred. "She spoke very nicely
of you, as far as I can remember, and said you were a dear brother."

"Then why are you so unkind to me now after being nice on the ship?"

"Oh, _that_! It was for a cinema, a motion picture. Didn't you
understand?"

This slapped Peter in the face: that she should retort with flippant
slang, when he wa