“Good morning,” said Virgil. “I bet I’ve been cut by more people than you.” “Four,” said Sarah, “since half-past ten.” “Five and a half,” said her fiancé. “Mrs. Sheraton Forbes had a child with her under fourteen. This ostracism amuses me to death. Never mind. How’s Fulke?” “Desperate,” said Miss Vulliamy. “I knew he would be. He bucked up a lot when I said he should be our first guest.” “Did he, indeed?” said Virgil. “Truly a forgiving nature.” “Yes, he is very sweet,” agreed Sarah. “Couldn’t he be your best man?” Pardoner fingered his chin. “I’m afraid he’s too young,” he said slowly. “I must have a compeer.” “Very well, then,” said Sarah. “He can give me away.” “That,” said Virgil, “will be a most becoming rôle.” Miss Vulliamy frowned. Then— “As we’re here,” she said, “what about an engagement ring?” “Of course,” said Virgil. “Come on. We’ll get it at once.” The two repaired to a jeweller’s and bought a beauty. “And while we’re about it,” said Pardoner, “a wedding ring too.” A wedding ring was selected. “And we might as well get our presents,” said Sarah, staring at a tiara composed of diamonds and emeralds. “You know: ‘The bridegroom’s presents to the bride included. . .’” “Right,” said Virgil. “Have what you like. I’m in a generous mood. Besides, my turn’s coming. In fact I’ll just have a look round.” Before they left the shop, the bride had given the bridegroom a gold cigarette-box, four pearl pins, six pairs of sleeve links, and a green crocodile dressing-case, which, with its gold-mounted fittings, cost her eight hundred pounds. On being acquainted with the lengths to which her generosity had gone— “They will think I love you,” said Miss Vulliamy, as soon as she could speak. “Remembering that tiara,” said Pardoner, “they’ll say I’m doting. I didn’t know they made such expensive things. But for my brain-wave about that dressing-case, I should have been left standing.” In a shaking voice Sarah demanded luncheon. “Not that I want to presume upon your hospitality, but we’ve many things to discuss,” she concluded coldly. “On condition,” said Pardoner, “that you do not drink grenadine, I’ll do you a treat.” “I don’t see why,” said Miss Vulliamy, “I should give up my staple drink.” Virgil shuddered. “I’ll try and explain some day. For one thing it’s bad for the heart.” “It’s never affected mine,” said Sarah. “No,” said Virgil, “I daresay it hasn’t. To be frank, I was thinking of my own. But never mind. Give it a miss till we’re married—a sort of interim injunction. We can argue it out later.” “Very well,” said Sarah reluctantly.