"On the contrary," I answered, "there are a good many more people here than I expected to see. I understood that you were to be alone."
"And you probably think that I ought to be," she remarked. "Well, I never was conventional. You know that. I shut myself up for a month. Now I expect my friends to come and console me."
"It is not likely," I said, "that you will be disappointed."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Perhaps not. Those whom I do not want will come, of course. As for the others—well!"
She looked up at me. I sat down by her side.
"Ah! That is nice of you," she said softly. "I wanted to have a quiet talk. Tell me why you are looking so glum."
"I was not conscious of it," I answered. "To tell you the truth, I was wondering whether Isobel were not a little young to bring to a gathering of this description."
"My dear Arnold," she murmured, "there are only one or two of my particular friends here. The rest dropped in by accident. Isobel does not seem to me to be particularly out of place, and she is certainly enjoying herself."
The echoes of her light laugh reached us just then. Several men were standing over her chair. She was the centre of what seemed to be a very amusing conversation. Arthur was standing on the outskirts of the group, apparently a little dull.