"Oh," she began suddenly, "the Doncasters want you for their Christmas Bazaar. The Thorleys are coming up—yes, I think you must go. It is for the doctor's pet charity, those crippled babies. I think it would be a mercy if the Lord took some of the poor things out of the world, but while they are here they must be taken care of. It is only one day and evening. We must give a luncheon to Florence and Claire Thorley. I'm sorry Lord Wrexford must be counted out of the Christmas gayeties. Yes, write an acceptance."
When she came down to the bottom she glanced over the cards, smiling, then frowning, not sorry to have missed some of the calls.
"Victor Savedra," she exclaimed, "why——"
"It is those Spanish people at home, at least, the son is here at Oxford, and he called."
She confessed it very quietly, without a change of color or embarrassment.
"Oh, yes—let me see—he asked permission to call—I think I told you—sometime in the early summer—we were going away."
These little half truths annoyed Laverne, but she made no comment.
Mrs. Westbury had accomplished one step toward what she thought would be the crowning point of her life, and she was amazed that it had been done so easily. As Laverne was an important factor in it she was prepared to be very sweet.
"He is still at Oxford?"
"Yes, he will be through in June, and then he will return to America."