"That doesn't necessarily follow," he said gallantly. "It comes unexpectedly sometimes, even to dogs."
"Do you like dogs, Mr. Van Pycke?" she asked, with disquieting serenity.
"What is all this leading up to?" he demanded suspiciously. "You're not going to invite me to a dog dinner, are you?"
"Dear me, no. How silly!"
"Well, one never knows in these days."
"These are not the dog days." He grinned amiably. "And so you are the wonderful Buzzy Van Pycke," she went on, quite frankly interested. "I've often wondered what you would be like."
"You don't mean it," he said, surprised.
Her only response was a penitent, apologetic smile; but it served better than words. He was dazzled. He afterward recalled that the whole course of his life changed in that instant. He was not quite sure that he didn't hear something snap inside. Still, it might have been his imagination.
At this moment the bride hurried into the room, her arms full of furs. There was a shout of joy from the guests. She smiled for every one, and then sent a quick, searching glance among them. Discovering Bosworth, she uttered a little cry of pleasure, tossed the furs into a chair,—which, it seems, already was occupied,—and rushed over to him, both hands extended.
"Dear old Buzzy, I'm so glad you came without an invitation! I am, truly. I would have sent you one, only I wasn't sure you would fit in under the circumstances. You see, it was a wedding. You'll understand, I'm sure."