"No more of this frivolity! I've confided to you that that man is dangerous to Genevieve's happiness. I'll not permit it. What a fortunate chance that the earl came with him! I shall see to it that Genevieve becomes a countess."
Dolores pulled a mock-tragic face. "Oh, mamma," she implored, "why don't you root for me, instead? I'm sure a coronet would fit me to perfection, and his mustache is so cute!"
To judge by Mrs. Gantry's expression, it was fortunate for her daughter that Genevieve came in upon them. Dolores divined this last from the sudden mellowing of her mother's face. She whirled up out of her chair and around, with a cry of joyous escape: "Oh, Vievie! You're just in time to save me!"
"From what, dear?" asked Genevieve, smilingly permitting herself to be crumpled in an impetuous embrace.
"Mamma was just going to run the steam-roller over me, simply because I said Jimmy's mustache is cute. It is cute, isn't it?"
"'Jimmy'?" inquired Genevieve, moving to a chair beside Mrs. Gantry.
"His honorable earlship, then—since mamma is with us."
"You may leave the room," said her mother.
"I may," repeated the girl. She pirouetted up the room and stopped to look at a painting of a desolate tropical coast.
"It's such a dreadful day out, Aunt Amice," said Genevieve. "And you can't be rested from the trip."