"Why, how lovely," murmured Mrs. Spangler, glancing at the watch. "We have plenty of time yet. Won't have to hurry. Your time is the same as mine," she added, nodding her head toward a French renaissance clock on the black marble mantel.
As the hostess did this she deftly turned back the hands of the
Senator's watch thirty-five minutes.
"Do you care to smoke, Senator," Mrs. Spangler asked, as her guests concluded their repast, "if the young ladies do not object?"
Langdon inclined his head gratefully, and laughed.
"They wouldn't be Southern girls, I reckon, if they didn't want to see a man have everything to make him happy—er, I beg pardon, Mrs. Spangler, I mean, comfortable. Nobody that's your guest could be unhappy."
The hostess beamed on the chivalrous Southerner.
Langdon drew forth a thick black perfecto and settled back luxuriously in his chair, after another glance at Mrs. Spangler's clock. He was absorbed in a mental résumé of his forthcoming speech and did not hear the next words of the woman, addressed pointedly to his daughters.
"Do you know, really, why this luncheon was given to-day?" she queried. Then she continued before Carolina and Hope Georgia could formulate replies:
"Because your father and I wanted to take this opportunity to announce to you—our engagement."
The speaker smiled her sweetest smile.