"George, I've come to the conclusion that we must have one more ball before we settle down," he said, as we drew our chairs in to the table.
"This is about the last of the season," I warned him.
He waved away the objection.
"I'll give one myself—just to a few friends and neighbours at Chepstow—some time about the end of the month before everybody's scattered. I'm giving it in Violet's honour."
We turned to look at her, and the self-possession gradually faded out of her face.
"Violet, is it true?" Amy asked, jumping up in her excitement.
She nodded, with very bright eyes.
"I will not have a scene!" Loring exclaimed. "Amy, sit down! If you try to kiss me in public.... Now, do try to look at the thing reasonably. It might have happened to anyone; it has, in fact, happened to a number of people. As for speeches and glass-waving.... Look how well George takes it! No nonsense about being glad to have me as a cousin, no grousing because he'll have to be best man—oh, we've arranged all that, my son—he just sits and drains a second bumper of champagne before anyone else has finished his first.... Amy, I shan't speak about it again!"
"My dear, I'm so happy," said his sister, subsiding with moist eyes into her chair.