On the following morning Charmian looked distinctly mysterious, and rather as if she wished Claude to notice her mystery. He ignored it, however, though he realized that some plan must be maturing in her head. His suspicion of the day before was certainly well founded.
"What about this evening, Charmian?" he asked.
"Oh, we are going to pendre la crémaillère. You remember we decided yesterday."
"Before or after dinner? And what about Mrs. Shiffney?"
"Well, I thought we might go to the studio about half-past seven or eight. Could you meet me there—say at half-past seven?"
"Meet you?"
"Yes; I've got to go out in that direction and could take it on the way home."
"All right. But dinner? That's just at dinner-time—not that I care."
"We could have something when we get home. I can tell Alice to put something in the dining-room for us. There's that pie, and we can have a bottle of champagne to drink success to the studio, if we want it."
"And Mrs. Shiffney's given up?"