“Of course I will.”
“Shake hands on it, then; that’s a good fellow. And say, did you say there was another skirt stopping here?”
“A—a what?”
“Petticoat,” explained Dick, patiently; “mulier, as the ancient dagoes had it. They’ve been getting mulier ever since, too. How old is she?”
“Oh,” answered Dorothy. “She’s not more than twenty or twenty-one.” Then, endeavouring to be just to Elaine, she added: “And a very pretty girl, too.”
“Lead me to her,” exclaimed Dick ecstatically. “Already she is mine!”
“You’ll see her at luncheon. There’s the bell, now.”
Mr. Chester was duly presented to Miss St. Clair, and from then on, appeared to be on his good behaviour. Elaine’s delicate, fragile beauty appealed strongly to the susceptible Dick, and from the very beginning, he was afraid of her—a dangerous symptom, if he had only known it.
Harlan, making the best of a bad bargain, devoted himself to his guests impartially, and, upon the whole, the luncheon went off very well, though the atmosphere was not wholly festive.
Afterward, when they sat down in the parlour, there was an awkward pause which no one seemed inclined to relieve. At length Dorothy, mindful of her duty as hostess, asked Miss St. Clair if she would not play something.