“Whatever are you doing, Sonia? Aren’t you getting on with those letters?” it cried angrily; and Germaine Gournay-Martin came through the long window into the hall. The heiress to the Gournay-Martin millions carried her tennis racquet in her hand; and her rosy cheeks were flushed redder than ever by the game. She was a pretty girl in a striking, high-coloured, rather obvious way—the very foil to Sonia’s delicate beauty. Her lips were a little too thin, her eyes too shallow; and together they gave her a rather hard air, in strongest contrast to the gentle, sympathetic face of Sonia. The two friends with whom Germaine had been playing tennis followed her into the hall: Jeanne Gautier, tall, sallow, dark, with a somewhat malicious air; Marie Bullier, short, round, commonplace, and sentimental. They came to the table at which Sonia was at work; and pointing to the pile of envelopes, Marie said, “Are these all wedding-cards?” “Yes; and we’ve only got to the letter V,” said Germaine, frowning at Sonia. “Princesse de Vernan—Duchesse de Vauvieuse—Marquess—Marchioness? You’ve invited the whole Faubourg Saint-Germain,” said Marie, shuffling the pile of envelopes with an envious air. “You’ll know very few people at your wedding,” said Jeanne, with a spiteful little giggle. “I beg your pardon, my dear,” said Germaine boastfully. “Madame de Relzières, my fiance’s cousin, gave an At Home the other day in my honour. At it she introduced half Paris to me—the Paris I’m destined to know, the Paris you’ll see in my drawing-rooms.” “But we shall no longer be fit friends for you when you’re the Duchess of Charmerace,” said Jeanne. “Why?” said Germaine; and then she added quickly, “Above everything, Sonia, don’t forget Veauléglise, 33, University Street—33, University Street.” “Veauléglise—33, University Street,” said Sonia, taking a fresh envelope, and beginning to address it. “Wait—wait! don’t close the envelope. I’m wondering whether Veauléglise ought to have a cross, a double cross, or a triple cross,” said Germaine, with an air of extreme importance. “What’s that?” cried Marie and Jeanne together. “A single cross means an invitation to the church, a double cross an invitation to the marriage and the wedding-breakfast, and the triple cross means an invitation to the marriage, the breakfast, and the signing of the marriage-contract. What do you think the Duchess of Veauléglise ought to have?” “Don’t ask me. I haven’t the honour of knowing that great lady,” cried Jeanne. “Nor I,” said Marie. “Nor I,” said Germaine. “But I have here the visiting-list of the late Duchess of Charmerace, Jacques’ mother. The two duchesses were on excellent terms. Besides the Duchess of Veauléglise is rather worn-out, but greatly admired for her piety. She goes to early service three times a week.” “Then put three crosses,” said Jeanne.