She may even have regretted being instrumental in bringing her here at all. And it is not unlikely that Mrs. Clarence may have entertained a few secret regrets also, and doubts as to the application of a broad-minded big way of looking at certain things pertaining to her own sex, when she beheld her of the saucy turned-up nose and brazen freckle. Certain it is, both Mrs. Dan and Mrs. Clarence looked more serious and thoughtful than jubilant. They didn’t applaud; they just seemed to, bringing their hands together without making a noise. But both ladies were now committed to the inevitable. Gee-gee and Gid-up, displaying their “histrionic talents,” were but calculated to make Mrs. Dan and Mrs. Clarence the more determined to pursue the matter to the bitter end. Among the guests now was a certain legal light. His presence there at this particular time—when the two G’s adorned the festivities—might be a mere coincidence; on the other hand it might signify much. He had certainly spent a long time that afternoon talking to Gee-gee and Gid-up. Mrs. Dan and Mrs. Clarence came in contact with them only by proxy. Bob was a deeply pained spectator of the wordless drama that was being enacted. He, alone, besides those directly involved, knew the tragedy lurking behind the mocking face of comedy. That gay music sounded to Bob like a fugue. He could well believe what it was costing Mrs. Dan and Mrs. Clarence to attain their purpose. They weren’t enjoying themselves. It was altogether a miserable business, and almost made Bob forget his own tragedy. A little incident, however, brought the latter once more vividly to mind. It occurred while Gee-gee, in answer to applause at the conclusion of her dance with Gid-up, was singing another of those risque, French cafe chantant songs. Bob sat next to the temperamental little thing who was behaving with exemplary consistency. She had been comporting herself in strictly comrade-fashion ever since their last talk, not once overdoing the little chum act. She hadn’t asked him for a single kiss or to put his arm about her waist in dark corners. Perhaps she was too anxious on his account for sentimental considerations. She couldn’t understand the way things were going—that is, things pertaining to Bob. “Why _don’t_ they?” once she whispered to Bob. He knew what she meant—arrest him? He shook his head. “Dallying,” he answered. “I could just scratch his eyes out,” she murmured with excess of loyalty. “Whose?” “That monocle-man. You know what I did this afternoon?” “No.” Bob, however, surmised it would be something interesting. “I went up to that monocle-man and told him every word I had said to him the night before wasn’t so.” “You did?” Staring at her. “Yes, I did.” Setting her cherry lips firmly. “I told him I was just trying to fool him and that I would never—never—never testify to such rubbish, if called on to do so.” “But you’ll have to,” said Bob. “You’ve got to tell the truth.”