His surprise was so well simulated that she was deceived.
“Fancy your forgetting! I’m going as Cinderella, and Minnie Gray is going as a pierrette——”
“Minnie Gray isn’t going as anything,” said Monty, sipping his tea. “I’ve already telephoned to her to say that the engagement is off. Miss Leicester is going with you.”
“But, Monty——” protested the girl.
“Don’t ‘but Monty’ me,” he ordered. “I’m telling you! Go up and see this girl, and put it to her that you’ve got a spare ticket for the dance.”
“But her costume, Monty! The girl hasn’t got a fancy dress. And Minnie——”
“Forget Minnie, will you? Mirabelle Leicester is going to the Arts Ball to-night.” He tapped the tray before him to emphasize every word. “You have a ticket to spare, and you simply can’t go alone because I have a very important business engagement and your friend has failed you. Her dress will be here in a few minutes: it is a bright green domino with a bright-red hood.”
“How perfectly hideous!” She forgot for the moment her disappointment in this outrage. “Bright green! Nobody has a complexion to stand that!”
Yet he ignored her.
“You will explain to Miss Leicester that the dress came from a friend who, through illness or any cause you like to invent, is unable to go to the dance—she’ll jump at the chance. It is one of the events of the year and tickets are selling at a premium.”