CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"It's a devilish mess, do what you will," Bobby said grimly, the next morning.
"The punishment seems a good deal out of proportion to the cause," Thayer replied briefly.
"Hh!" Bobby grunted. "I think he did well to get off without a genuine case of D. T."
"I was speaking of your cousin, not of Lorimer."
Bobby stared at him in astonishment.
"Really, Thayer, I can't see any cause that was of Beatrix's making," he returned haughtily.
"It was mistaken judgment, to say the least, to have champagne in the house," Thayer answered.
"Beatrix had nothing to do with that," Bobby blazed forth angrily. "It was that brute of a Lorimer, and he deserves all he got, and more, too. I saw the order to the caterer, made out in Beatrix's handwriting, and there wasn't a pint of champagne on it. Lorimer sent in the order afterwards, just as he invited that serpent of a Lloyd Avalons. Beatrix couldn't help herself."