The return in feminine file to the drawing room of part of the company was a stage of the pageant with which _Jane Eyre’s_ life at Thornhill, and Annie Edwards’ and Ouida’s stories of hospitality at English country houses had made her familiar. She hoped nobody else noticed Arthur’s surprised stare, as the men arose and remained standing, with no movement in the direction of the escaping fair ones. With flutter and buzz and silken rustle, the dames swept through the hall back into the drawing room and disposed themselves upon couches and in easy-chairs, where tiny glasses of perfumed liqueur were handed to them. “Exactly like a story of Oriental life,” mused entranced Susie. Now, for the first time, Kitty had the opportunity to show to her school-friend the pointed and peculiar attentions the rhapsodies of yesterday had authorized her to expect. Up to this moment nobody had been introduced to her except the man who took her to dinner. “I must have you know all these friends of mine,” she purred, taking Susie’s hand in both of hers, and leading her with engaging “gush” up to the mauve-and-white marvel. “Mrs. Vansittart, this is my _dear_ old school-fellow, Mrs. Cornell, who is going to play something for us now, and after a while, to sing several somethings, and when our audience is enlarged by the return of the men to us lorn women, she will, if properly entreated, give us some of her charming recitations. Ah! you may well look surprised. It is granted to few women to combine so many talents, but when you have heard her, you will see that I do not promise too much. “Mrs. Roberts!” to the symphony in pink-and-silver—“I bespeak your admiration for my friend and school-crony”—etc., etc., until the blushing _débutante_ was the focus of six pairs of eyes, critical, indifferent, and amiable, and wished that dear Kitty were not so incorrigibly enthusiastic in praising those she loved.