"Yes," she admitted.
"Well, there's your new white dress skirt, and for a waist there is my lovely lace waist that I told you about—the one Miss King gave me."
"Your weddin' waist! No, Amarilly. It's like you to offer, but I couldn't take it from you."
"No, I'm not giving it to you. Just lending it to you for your wedding. You couldn't hurt it any wearing it two hours. Then I'll lay it by again till I'm married. And I'll like wearing it all the more because you wore it to your wedding. Come over some day and we'll try it on. Then Miss King is going to give you the bouquet, and for a veil—"
"Oh, the veil! Amarilly, I would love a veil!" Lily Rose cried wistfully.
"Well, I've got one spoken for. You see, Mrs. Jimmels has been married so many different ways, I felt sure she must have worn a veil at one of her weddings, and seeing she had been married so many times, I thought she couldn't have any special feeling about any one of them, so I asked her if she wouldn't lend hers to you, and she's glad to have it put to use again. You'll look just perfectly swell, Lily Rose. And she's going to give you a pair of white gloves that she had when she was slim-like."
The little renunciator went home feeling amply rewarded by the look of shining content in the blue eyes of Lily Rose.
* * * * *
The next night Colette in accordance with her promise to Amarilly summoned John to council. It was not easy to bridge the distance which had been steadily increasing with the months that had rolled by since the surplice dénouement, and Colette, formerly supreme in her sway, was perceptibly timid in making the advance. After writing and tearing up several notes she called him up by telephone and asked him in a consciously casual tone if he could find it convenient to call that evening with reference to a little matter pertaining to their mutual charge, the Jenkinses.
The grave voice in which he accepted the invitation was tinged with pleasure.