"Then I shall be certain to call on you to sing and play to-night, and you must not refuse," said Violet, smiling to herself at the idea of the singing and playing Jaquelina could have acquired in a year.
She did not look frightened at Violet's words. She simply said that she would do her best. Violet had no idea what that "best" meant.
"Mr. Valchester is here," she said, after a pause, with a keen glance at the other. "He came yesterday on purpose to attend our party. But you have totally forgotten him, I suppose," turning her head a little sidewise.
"Oh, no; I remember him perfectly well," said Jaquelina, unembarrassed.
"Do you? You have a good memory. I believe you only saw him once or twice."
"Three times," Jaquelina answered.
"I do not believe he has remembered you so well," said Violet, arranging her bracelets. "When some one named you this morning at breakfast, he did not speak of you nor ask any questions. He appeared calm and uninterested as if you were a stranger."
"He has probably forgotten me," said Jaquelina, quietly, and Violet could not see any change in the charming face as she spoke the careless words.
She had changed somewhat since she had been away, and acquired a touch more of the grave, pretty dignity that had always seemed so natural to her.
There was a minute's pause while they stood together beneath the arched lattice work of honeysuckle and roses, like a beautiful picture of night and morning; the one with her fair, blonde beauty and pale blue robe; the other in her soft gray draperies, and dusky eyes with that starry gleam in their darkness.