"Don't. I'm intoxicated enough as it is."
"Just imagine I'm Miss Emerson!" she smiled.
"If you'll imagine I'm Montague Pendleton."
She did not answer—and he surmised the situation.
"You two have quarrelled," he said.
The faintest shrug of the lovely shoulders answered him.
"Now don't do anything rash—before you make it up," he cautioned. "I'm a little surprised at Pendleton letting you quarrel with him. I thought he was too superior a being for that; but you never can tell when——" He smiled at her significantly. "There may be method in his plan, but I—no, assuredly, you never can tell!"
"No, you never can tell anything for sure," she replied enigmatically.
The music stopped. They were just beside Miss Chamberlain and Cameron, and the four strolled out of the crush to the punch bowl on the nearest piazza.
"May I have the next dance, Mrs. Lorraine?" said Porshinger's voice behind them.