"Mr. Arlt," she said gayly; "it is very warm here, and I know where they keep the frappé. Shall we leave my father here, and run off in search of some goodies? You ought to be hungry, after playing for two hours. Come!"
And Arlt, surprised at the sudden winning intonations which had crept into her voice, dodged around the portly back of Mrs. Stanley and followed Beatrix out of the room. For the moment, the haughty woman had changed to a jovial, friendly girl, no more awe-inspiring than Katarina, in spite of her wonderful gown and the fluffy white thing in her hair; and the artist, in his turn, changed into a normal hungry boy, as he followed her away.
So absorbed were they in each other that they failed to see Bobby Dane who met them upon the threshold, on his way to join the group they had just left.
"Beg pardon, Thayer; but can I speak to you for a moment?" he said abruptly.
His uncle turned to Mrs. Stanley with old-fashioned pomposity.
"May I have the pleasure of taking you to the dining-room?" he asked.
"What is it, Dane?" Thayer asked, as soon as they were alone, for Bobby's face showed that something was amiss.
"It's Lorimer in the smoking-room. That beast of a Lloyd Avalons has opened a perfect bar in there, and—and Lorimer is making a bit of a cad of himself," Bobby confessed reluctantly. "I tried to get him away; but he wouldn't come, and I thought perhaps you could start him. It's not that he is drunk, only he is talking rather too much, and I want to get him off before Beatrix gets wind of it. You know girls—"
"I know," Thayer assented gravely. "I'll see what I can do with him."