"Trixy asked me to get you," she explained. "Mr. Grainger and I are going to lunch with you."
"How nice!" said Honora, with such a distinct emphasis of relief that
Mrs. Kame looked at her queerly.
"What a fool Trixy was, with all his experience, to get mixed up with that Chandos woman," that lady remarked as they passed through the hallway. "She's like molasses—one can never get her off. Lucky thing he found Cecil and me here. There's your persistent friend, Trixy," she added, when they were seated. "Really, this is pathetic, when an invitation to lunch and a drive in your car would have made her so happy."
Honora looked around and beheld, indeed, Mrs. Chandos and two other Quicksands women, Mrs. Randall and Mrs. Barclay, at a table in the corner of the room.
"Where's Bessie to-day, Cecil—or do you know?" demanded Mrs. Kame, after an amused glance at Brent, who had not deigned to answer her. "I promised to go to Newport with her at the end of the week, but I haven't been able to find her."
"Cecil doesn't know," said Trixton Brent. "The police have been looking for him for a fortnight. Where the deuce have you been, Cecil?"
"To the Adirondacks," replied Mr Grainger, gravely.
This explanation, which seemed entirely plausible to Honora, appeared to afford great amusement to Brent, and even to Mrs. Kame.
"When did you come to life?" demanded Brent.
"Yesterday," said Mr. Grainger, quite as solemnly as before.