Westmore nodded:
“Quite right. The Lusitania and Belgium cost the Hun the respect of civilisation, and are driving the civilised world into a common understanding. We’ll go in before long; don’t worry.”
They descended the stairs together just as dinner was announced.
Mrs. Barres said laughingly to her son:
“Your father is still fishing, I suppose, so in spite of his admonition to me by letter this morning, I sent over one of the men with some thermos bottles and a very nice supper. He grumbles, but he always likes it.”
“I wonder what Mr. Barres will think of me,” ventured Dulcie. “He left such a pretty little rod for me. Thessa and I have been examining it. I’d like to go, only—” she added with a wistful smile, “I have never been to a real party.”
“Of course you’re going to the Gerhardts’,” insisted Lee, laughing. “Dad is absurd about his fishing. I don’t believe any girl ever lived who’d prefer fishing on that foggy lake at night to dancing at such a party as you are going to to-night.”
“Aren’t you going?” asked Thessalie, but Lee shook her head, still smiling.
“We have two young setters down with distemper, and mother and I always sit up with our dogs under such circumstances.”
Personal devotion of this sort was new to Thessalie. Mrs. Barres and Lee told her all about the dreaded contagion and how very dreadful an epidemic might be in a kennel of such finely bred dogs as was the well-known Foreland Kennels.