“Oh, come off. I’ve terrible news for you. I’ve just congratulated him. He’s mortgaged.”
“I wish you would not talk slang over the telephone. I suppose you mean he’s engaged to Mary Gordon.”
“That’s the hard cold fact.”
“Well, please congratulate them for me. I’ll give them a dinner. I’ll write a note to-day——”
“You’ll see him to-night. I hope you haven’t forgotten that you are all to dine with us.”
“I had forgotten it, but we’ll be there.”
“Great Scott, Helena! have you also forgotten that this is our last night, and that you asked six of us to spend a week with you? Are those boys still there?”
“They are; but I’ll send them home this minute. I’m awfully sorry I forgot it, but everything will be ready for you. I’ll send a wagon over for your traps this afternoon, and the char-à-banc will bring you back to-night. Now, clear out, I have a great deal to attend to.”
Helena replaced the trumpet carefully in its bracket, then leaned her elbows on the table and laughed. The one sensation of which she was definitely conscious for the moment was genuine amusement. She recalled her dreams, her pictured life with Clive, and felt a fool; but she had always been able to laugh at herself, and she did so now. In a little while she went into the corridors, where the guests were dawdling after their morning drive.
“Mes enfants,” she said, blowing a kiss from the tips of her fingers to each of the young men in turn, “go straightway and pack up. You are to go home on the 4.10. I asked, a week ago, six of the club men to come here to-night, and you must vacate. And, what do you think? My Englishman is engaged to Mary Gordon.”