"Of course you were not! No one ever is—— It requires a friend to make himself popular by telling you."
"What shall I tell you?" laughed Pendleton.
"Anything that's disagreeable—so long as it is the truth."
A rather large woman came down the piazza, nodding this way and that. She was beautifully gowned, in the very best taste and in the style that was calculated to soften her embonpoint into a gentle plumpness. A flush that was charmingly natural glowed on cheek and lip, her eyes were dark and delicately pencilled, her hands were bare of gloves and sparkled with rings. As she passed the corner where Pendleton and Burgoyne were sitting, she bowed effusively, and when they both arose and returned it she suddenly veered across.
"I'm so glad to see you!" she radiated.
Pendleton presented his friend.
"Welcome home, Mr. Burgoyne, if I may," she greeted. "Mr. Pendleton, won't you and Mr. Burgoyne dine with us here this evening?—just a little informal party—with some Auction later?"
Pendleton's glance shot questioningly at Burgoyne and got an answer.
"Thank you very much, Mrs. Emerson," said he. "I shall be delighted."
"It will give me much pleasure, you are very kind," Burgoyne assured her.