"I know perfectly well," I agreed; "but, as some day or other I'm going to marry Eve, it seems to me the thing might as well be done."
They were both perfectly silent for several moments. They looked at each other. There were questions in his face—other things in hers. I strolled across to the window.
"If you'd like to talk it over," I suggested, "don't mind me. All the same
I insist upon the party."
"It's uncommonly kind of you, sure!" Mr. Parker said thoughtfully. "The more I think it over, the more I feel impressed by it; but, do you know, there's something about the proposition I can't quite cotton to! Seems to me you've some little scheme of your own at the back of your head. You haven't got it in your mind, have you, that you're sort of putting us on our honor?"
"I have no ulterior motive at all," I declared mendaciously.
Eve rose to her feet and came across to me. She was wearing a charming morning gown of some light blue material, with large buttons, tight- fitting, alluring; and there was a little quiver of her lips, a provocative gleam in her eyes, which I found perfectly maddening.
"I think we won't come, thank you," she decided.
"Why not?"
"You see," she explained, "I am rather afraid. We might get you into no end of trouble with some of your most particular friends. There are one or two people, you know, in London, especially among the Americans, who might say the unkindest things about us."
"No one, my dear Eve," I assured her stolidly, "shall say anything to me or to any one else about my future wife."