Marjorie nearly spilled the scallops she was serving at that moment, and the kitten, losing its self-control entirely, climbed on the table with a cry of entreaty for the excellent fish-smelling dishful of things to eat. It was lucky for Marjorie that he did, because while she was struggling with him Lucille answered innocently for her. "Yes, more or less. But he's late. Where's your perfectly good husband, Marge?" "Late, I'm afraid," Marjorie answered, smiling, and wondering at herself for being able to smile. "We aren't to wait for him." "Sensible child," Lucille answered. "I'm certainly very hungry." She drew her chair up to the low table the men had pushed into the center of the room, sent one of them to open the window, rather than turn out the cheerful light of the gas grate, and the real business of the party began. It was going on very prosperously, that meal; even Mr. Logan was heroically eating the same things the rest did, and not taking up more than his fair share of the conversation, when there was a quick step on the stairs. Nobody heard it but Marjorie, who stood, frozen, just as she had risen to get a fork for somebody. She knew Francis's step, and when he clicked the little knocker she forced herself to go over and let him in. He came in exactly as if he belonged there; but after one quick glance at the visitors he drew Marjorie aside into the little inner room. "Marjorie, I've come to say I was unkind and unfair over the telephone. I've made up my mind that you are fonder of me than you know. I think it will be all right--it was foolish of me to be too proud to take you unless you were absolutely willing. Let me take back what I said, and forgive me. I know it will be all right--Marjorie!" She gave him a furious push away from her. Her eyes blazed. "It never will be all right! It isn't going to have a chance to be!" she told him, as angry as he had been when she called him up. "You had your chance and you wouldn't take it. I don't want to be your wife, and I never will be. That's all there is to say." She took a step in the direction of the outer room. He put out a hand to detain her. "Marjorie! Marjorie! Don't!" "I'm going out there, and going to keep on having the nice time I had before you came. If you try to do anything I'll probably make a scene." "You're going to give me one more chance," he said. "That's settled." She looked at him defiantly. "Try to make me," was all she said, wrenching her wrist out of his hand. "I will," said Francis grimly. She smiled at him brilliantly as he followed her into the room where the others were. "I'm afraid there isn't any way," she said sweetly. Lucille, who had not seen Francis before, flew at him now with a welcome which was affectionate enough to end effectually any further ardors or defiances.