"Do you mean—Do you dare—" the Lady Head's lifted eyebrows completed her question.
This little kindergartner stood firm. "I think Caroline should be warned," she insisted quietly. "Her Italians are so young—so hot-blooded, and I'm afraid she has been encouraging them a little, too—"
"Nonsense!" the other woman sprang quickly to her feet. "I have never heard anything so ridiculous—so utterly preposterous! Do my years of experience count for nothing in comparison with yours? Am I entirely lacking in good judgment—in common sense? My dear woman, I have always made friends of my club boys, invited them to my home—even young anarchists! Falling in love with her! Preposterous!" She paused for a moment breathless, and then began a fresh onslaught.
"If Caroline has not sufficient tact—"
A girl's blonde head appeared in the office doorway.
"Did you call met?" she lisped sweetly. "I was passing through the hall and I thought I heard my name spoken." She paused, with a questioning glance at the two women.
The Lady Head was the first to recover her composure, and she rustled across the room with outstretched hands. "My dear Caroline," she said. "We were just speaking of you—and your charming little club," she added, with a side glance at her assistant.
The girl threw back her dark furs with a smile. "How good of you," she said gratefully. "I'm frightfully late to-day, but to-night is our party, and I stopped down town for the boys."
The Lady Head patted the girl's plump fingers. "Are you going to dance, too?" she inquired.
The girl laughed. "Indeed I am. But I really don't know how I'm going to manage it. The boys are all so jealous, and Tony—oh, Tony is the grandest dancer!"