Constance's companion arose and viewed the new arrival with surprise, amusement and expectation. The latter was not immediately fulfilled.
"No," said Constance with significant brevity. "It's in the conservatory." Which was a guess.
"I've looked," said Pat. Which was a lie. She directed a guileless gaze at Cary Scott. "I think you must have been sitting on it," she said; "my copy of Town Topics."
"No; I assure you," he returned. There was a moment's pause which he relieved by turning to Constance. "This is Miss Patricia?" he asked.
"Yes; that's the infant," returned Constance so disparagingly that Pat at once decided to see it through.
"Only half an introduction," she said, greatly fancying herself for her aplomb. "What's the other half?"
"Cary Scott, at your service, mademoiselle." He made her an elaborate bow, twinkling.
She held out a hand, large, firm, and nervously modelled. "Oh, yes. Dee's been telling me about you. Such a lot."
"A charming historian. I hope the history borrowed some of the quality."
"It wasn't so dull. Con, are you driving down for Dad to-day?"