"She oughtn't to have come," murmured Lady Pentyre, who neither understood nor forgave her son for this eleventh-hour addition. After the disgraceful episode of the poker-party, she had vowed never to have the girl in her house again; and these later scandals were no recommendation to leniency. But, before she could hint at her objections, she was told that the invitation had already been issued. "If she's beginning a chill or anything——"
Jack crossed to the distant chair and was welcomed with a smile.
"How nice you look in that coat!" Lady Barbara cried. "Are those the Croxton buttons?"
"Yes.... May I sit and talk, if you didn't have too much of me at dinner? I feel responsible for bringing you here, you know."
"But I love doing what people ask me! It's my greatest self-indulgence. When are they going to begin, and what's all the fuss about in the hall?"
A babble of angry voices floated through the open door—criticism, suggestions and conflicting orders. The Secretary came in frowning and snatched at all members of the Committee within reach.
"I'll never go to those people again!" he thundered. "After all these years, too. Band hung up on the road. Wrong train. They won't be here for half an hour!"
A murmur of disappointment swelled through the room, eddying round the hall and rising from group to group on the stairs and in the ball-room.
Lady Barbara sat up alert, without any trace of headache or fatigue. The red lips were parted expectantly, with a gleam of small white teeth.
"I'll play!"