"No, I want you to send him a note. The time, and where to meet, and the arrangements for dinner—and who's to be there."
Without further protest I sat down and wrote as I was bid.
"Tell him not to talk through the Good Friday music," I begged.
"I shan't tell him anything," said Amy. "I don't know anything about the plan; it's just a thought that's casually occurred to you——"
"I knew I should have the blame put on me," I answered resignedly.
When the night arrived there was little blame to apportion, and Loring thanked me effusively for my invitation. Between the acts we dined at the Savoy and were returning to our box when I caught sight of Sonia waiting for her party in the hall. Fortunately the others had gone on ahead before our, eyes met.
"I haven't seen you for an age," she began pleasantly, in apparent forgetfulness of a peevish meeting at the 'Cordon Bleu' the previous summer.
"Are you up for the season?" I asked.
"No, I'm going abroad next week. Sir Adolf's getting up a motor tour through France and Italy, ending up at Bayreuth in time for the Festival. Lord Pennington, Mrs. Welman, Sir Adolf, his sister,—the Baroness, you know,—Fatty Webster and me. I'm with Fatty to-night."