"Your breath is dreadful; do you realise it?"
Catharine seemed surprised, then her eyes wandered vaguely, drowsily, and she laid her gloved hand on Athalie's arm as though to steady herself.
"What sort of man is your new friend, Cecil Reeve?" inquired Athalie.
"He's nice—a gentleman. And they were so amusing;—we laughed so much.... I told him he might call.... He's really all right, Athalie—"
"And Mr. Ferris?"
"Well—I don't know about him; he's Genevieve's friend;—I don't know him so well.... But of course he's all right—a gentleman—"
"That's the trouble," said Athalie in a low voice.
"What is the trouble?"
"These friends of yours—and of Doris, and of mine ... they're gentlemen.... And that is why we find them agreeable, socially.... But when they desire social amusement they know where to find it."
"Where?"