"I owe you much for my acquaintance with him," he said, when the subject was fairly introduced. "He has been all kinds of a good friend to me, and he promises to be more."
"Isn't your debt to Penelope, rather than to me?" she returned.
"No, I think not. You are responsible, in the broader sense, at all events. He did not come West for Penelope's sake." Then he took the plunge: "May I know when it is to be—or am I to wait for my bidding with the other and more formally invited guests?"
She laughed, a low little laugh that somehow grated upon his nerves.
"You shall know—when I know."
"Forgive me," he said quickly. "But from something Ormsby said——"
"He should not have spoken of it; I have given him no right," she said coldly.
"You make me twice sorry: once if I am a trespasser, and again if I have unwittingly broken a confidence. But as a friend—a very old friend—I ventured——"
She interrupted him again, but this time her laugh did not hurt him.
"Yes; our friendship antedates Mr. Ormsby; it is old enough to excuse anything you said—or were going to say."