"Are we all here but Anthony?" she asked, with her eyes sweeping the length of the porch where the guests had gathered. "He's probably looking after somebody with appendicitis, or with a broken arm----" "No, he isn't." Bettina spoke with the assurance of direct knowledge. "This time it is a man's nose; it had to be sewed up." She shivered as she said it, and her audience roared. "I'm glad it's not Bobbie's nose," said Justin, "it's the only really handsome feature he possesses isn't it, Doris?" The blushing Doris murmured inarticulately. She thought Bobbie beautiful, and wondered why any one should designate his nose so explicitly. Diana regretted that she had not warned Bettina against such assumption of intimacy with Anthony. If people were not to know of the engagement, it was not well-- But Anthony had come, perfectly groomed, from the tips of his white shoes to the top of his head, and presently he was bending over her hand, and saying, pleasantly, "It's a jolly lot of us you've got together, Di. Did I keep you waiting?" "If you had, it wouldn't be me, but Delia, to whom you'd have to apologize. She's the real head of the house, you know." Justin took Bettina out, Anthony took Sophie, and one of the married men Diana. At the table Bettina sat between the other married man and Justin, much to her discomfort, for she craved the seat next to the doctor, where perchance she might slip her fingers into his; he seemed so far away, and they were all strangers. But no one could be shy with Justin. "Of course we're going to be great friends," he said. Bettina eyed him doubtfully. "Why?" she asked. Here at least was no meek surrender to his charms, and Justin girded himself for the flirtation. "Well, I'm Diana's friend," he ventured. "Yes?" "Isn't that reason enough?" "No." "Why not?" "I like to choose my friends for myself." "Won't you choose me?" She smiled up at him. "Of course; don't be silly." After that they got on famously. Justin exerted himself to please, and Bettina, with shining eyes, laughed softly in response to his clever wit. Sara Duffield watched and wondered. Justin had of late seemed her especial property. Yet she had heard him offer to take this strange young woman in his aeroplane, and he had never taken Sara. "Who is she?" Sara asked of Bobbie, who was next to her. "A friend of Diana's. She has been looking after her sick mother for a year. Then Mrs. Dolce died, and Diana asked the girl here. She's a beauty, isn't she?" "Yes," said Sara, who, in certain shimmering greens and blues, looked like a shining little peacock, an effect which was further emphasized by a slender feather caught by an emerald which she wore in her black hair. "Where did she live before she came to Diana?" "In the top of the Lane mansion." "The Lane mansion." Sara's tone was scornful. "But it's an awful old place----" "I fancy they didn't have much money. But she doesn't need it, not with that face."